He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. ’ ‘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. The poor child! What frightful things she must have seen on that island of hers! The noise of crashing glass caused a diversion; and Ruth turned gratefully toward the sound. "Vot are you?" "Practising patience," growled Abraham. ‘To go to these Charvill, it was not in my plot.
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