She had never been so happy to vomit. There was nothing to replace the all important letter from her father. ’ ‘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. ‘What the devil for? I’ll have one of the men ride the creature up tomorrow. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. Wood rest till he brought the villains to justice.
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