"Don't speak ill of him behind his back, father," interposed Thames. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. Set the boy free. All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger. Even the children jeer. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. I believe it amused him.
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