“To the best of my belief, I have not a single English acquaintance in the city. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. It was a unique experience for her to wash him. ’ ‘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. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. "I see you don't know him as well as you pretend. I am no exception.
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