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I hate children. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing. Sheila was a stout woman, her bosoms huge, her face 110 wide and square. ’ ‘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.
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