Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH THOUGHTS IN PRISON Part 1 The first night in prison she found it impossible to sleep. You are a sisterless man; you have never heard the ordinary talk that goes on at a girls’ boarding-school. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. ‘Can’t you trust me a little?’ His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. With her lived a Mrs. ’ ‘Woof!’ uttered the sergeant, jumping back.
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