‘You see now how dangerous it is to play this lone hand. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. Wood, meanwhile, had summoned his men-servants, and having armed them with such weapons as could be found, they proceeded to the garden, where the first object they encountered was Thames Darrell, extended on the ground, and weltering in his blood. As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them. 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.
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