Wood is now in very affluent circumstances. ’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. You have grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out. Just my room. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know.
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