I shouted, I screamed, I begged but they just looked down at me and actually laughed, calling me ‘pathetic,’ before repeating that I had to leave....They stopped laughing though when I said I was taking my paintings.”“Paintings?” I asked, realising that this story was going to have a ‘twist.’“A couple of years before dad died he bought me a set of four paintings for my birthday by a Venetian renaissance artist called Giovanni del Callinni. They were bought for me to be used as a future investment. There was no waste this way. "First you eat the fresh meat," he explained, "and when it's gone, use the dried." These past several days they'd been eating the dried, but that was almost gone now. It wouldn't be too much longer before they would need to butcher another goat.Mary found Lou to be a fascinating person. He knew no end of things. He could talk about anything; President Grant, the Great Fire in Chicago, even Mark Twain's latest writings. And if he didn't know every thing there was to. More

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