Leonardo da Vinci The Last Supper painting

Leonardo da Vinci The Last Supper painting
Gustav Klimt Klimt Sappho painting
slave all her life, turned out of her home. Of course, I could have earned enough for us to live on. But mother couldn't leave her home. She had come there as a bride--and she had loved father so--and all her memories were there. Even yet, Anne, when I think that I made her last year happy I'm not sorry for what I did. As for Dick--I didn't hate him when I married him--I just felt for him the indifferent, friendly feeling I had for most of my schoolmates. I knew he drank some--but I had never heard the story of the girl down at the fishing cove. If I had, I couldn't have married him, even for mother's sake. Afterwards--I did hate him--but mother never knew. She died--and then I was alone. I was only seventeen and I was alone. Dick had gone off in the Four Sisters. I hoped he wouldn't be home very much more. The sea had always been in his blood. I had no other hope. Well, Captain Jim brought him home, as you know--and that's all there is to say. You know me now, Anne--the worst of me--the barriers are all down. And you still want to be my friend?"
Anne looked up through the birches, at the white paper-lantern of a half moon drifting downwards to the gulf of sunset. Her face was very sweet.