Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. Not a breath was drawn. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. Sheppard, with an agonized look at Wood. ’ Relief flooded Melusine. She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead.
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