So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. The vestry was perhaps the only room in the place, except her allotted curtained off portion of the dormitory chamber that served for her cell—and she could not scandalise the nuns by having a man in there, be he never so much a servant—where Melusine could be sure of privacy. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably. His friendship seemed a thing worth having. She realized that no man had ever placed a mantle of respect upon her as Sebastian did; respect for more than just her pretty face and her now lost ability to bear children. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. I am tired, and I want to be alone. “I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea. The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture.
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