It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. I dare say anything seemed better to her than the nun’s habit she had been obliged to use. 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.
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