’ ‘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. They had chosen to deliberately and wickedly insult a lady who had done her best to entertain them for many weeks. His orgasm was quick, spasmodic. She stole a few glances at John as she stood and played the pieces. Something in her voice and manner conveyed an effect of unwonted gravity to him.
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