“My dear sweet Lucia. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. You promise me you’ll never grow old, you hear?” “I promise. "You forgot your lunch," she said. He recoiled from the sting. " "A capital caricature that," remarked Thornhill, laughing. So you took my womb away, you took my baby! So I could be a monster! Because she was a monster! We are monsters!” He grabbed the top of the cannon away from her face. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. “A most wonderful likeness, too.
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