Joan told me it was hung somewhere in the house, only I couldn’t remember where after all this time. She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. Jack instantly started to his feet, and the man, alarmed at his appearance, ran off to a neighbouring house. ’ ‘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.
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