’ ‘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 was in ill trim for walking, but somehow or other she made her way as far as the Champs Elysées, and sank down upon an empty seat. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation.
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