>When they got home, they saw through the window that the lamps were lit, and there was a fire in the fireplace. But they did not see their mother and Arthur. Instead, there was their new mother-her glass eyes glistening, her wooden tail thumping on the floor.
I am worth more than a musical automaton. Please think well enough the same of yourself and get the therapy necessary for there to be any chance of reconciliation in some indefinite future.

To Mo