She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. If you can imagine it, I survived it. Or else I would have finished him. ” “Nor I,” she remarked tersely. ‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. Her wings were oddly weak, but for all that she could fly. ‘You wish to tell me something? Parbleu, I have nearly forgot once more. ’ ‘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. Pretend to weep both of you as loudly as you can. But I vowed that Ruth should never suffer the way I did—and do. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window.
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