But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged. Making up a similar story to that which he had told the old woman, he said he wanted to purchase a hammer and a file. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. The door leading to the front of the house was stealthily opening. Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. " All day long the phrase interpolated her thoughts.
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