Another long train ride back home from London, dozing off sleepily in the carriage. Paul had arrived at his home station to find a light drizzle of r...in falling. He’s walked home as quickly as he could, hoping it wouldn’t get any worse and relieved to find it hadn’t. He’d slipped out of his coat and shoes and slumped down on the couch, vowing just to catch a couple of minutes of rest before sorting out his food. When the doorbell rang Paul’s eyes flew open. Pulling himself out of his chair he. Again, she had found no mention of the painting in any of her Grandmother’s insurance records or accounts and she had scanned those with Carlo’s assistance, back as far as 1950 when Eleanora had first bought the house. As far as she knew, Eleanora had not painted the picture herself; there was not a single shred of evidence that she had been artistically gifted or inclined. Music was her calling and her only outlet for creativity. So the mystery remained and the words upon the frame would echo. We stopped long enough to remove our weapons from where they’d been tied behind our saddles, and then we handed the kids our reins. We stood and watched the kids lead the animals off, and then once they were out of sight, we turned our attention to the men.“How are the people here today?” I asked firmly, speaking to all three men as I asked the question; letting my eyes move from one face to the other as I waited upon a reply. “Have the younger men settled down?“We spoke to everyone last night,. You don't mean that, do you?" Millie choked."You tell me," prompted Betsy.Now it was Millie's turn to wait a long time before answering, and she could hardly believe her own ears when she eventually muttered, "F-fuck him? Me fuck daddy?"Betsy nodded. "Just something to think about, dear... if you really love your father as much as I know you do."They didn't discuss it again, but Millie couldn't get the idea of actually fucking her own father out of her mind after it had been planted there. She.