Rembrandt The Return of the Prodigal Son

Rembrandt The Return of the Prodigal SonRembrandt rembrandt nightwatch paintingRaphael The Sistine Madonna
pulled it open just enough to slip inside.
‘Mr Door?’
There was a rustle in the hay, and then an alert silence.
MISS FLITWORTH?
‘Did you call out? I’m sure I heard someone shout my name.’ There was another rustle, and Bill Door’s head appeared over the edge of the loft.
MISS FLITWORTH.
‘Yes. Who did you expect? Are you all right?’
ER. YES. porridge into a bowl in front of him. and drowned it with cream. Finally, he couldn’t contain himself any longer. He didn’t know how to ask the questions, but he really needed the answers.
MISS FLITWORTH?
‘Yes?’
WHAT IS IT . . . IN THE NIGHT . . . WHEN YOU SEE THINGS,YES, I BELIEVE SO.‘You sure you’re all right? You woke up Cyril.’YES. YES. IT WAS JUST A - I THOUGHT THAT - YES.She blew out the candle. There was already enough pre-dawn light to see by.‘Well, if you’re sure . . . Now I’m up I may as well put the porridge on.’ Bill Door lay back on the hay until he felt he could trust his legs to carry him, and then climbed down and tottered across the yard to the farmhouse. He said nothing while she ladled