"Now, tell me why they brought you here?" "I came to see you, dear mother!" answered Jack. It was from Brendon. Of course, at home there would have been questions. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. She feasted reluctantly, partly out of wonder at the new function of her often elongated canines. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. It was an easy one to smell early on, Sebastian had taught her: anything reproductive. . ’ ‘Do not make a game with me,’ she interrupted, gripping her underlip firmly between her teeth to stop the threatening laughter. Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared.
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