’ ‘Lucilla,’ gasped Hilary, his cheeks reddening with wrath. You had better go to bed. We dressed it in a little music. ’ ‘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. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. Finding it impossible to descend on any side, without incurring serious risk, Jack resolved to return for his blanket, by the help of which he felt certain of accomplishing a safe landing on the roof of the house in Giltspur Street.
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