" The tone was neutral. ’ ‘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. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. This door was crested with spikes, and guarded on the right by a bristling semicircle of spikes. She then introduced them to Martin’s parents. His frowning gaze came back to her. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said.
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