leonardo da vinci last supper painting

leonardo da vinci last supper painting
leonardo da vinci mona lisa
leonardo da vinci painting
leonardo da vinci the last supper
That you, Emma? Got the new girl there? Bring her in. I want to look at her."
Emma flushed, glanced at Lucy apologetically.
The two women entered the room. It was richly upholstered in dark velvet, the narrow windows let in very little light, and it was full of heavy mahogany Victorian furniture.
oil painting
Old Mr. Crackenthorpe was stretched out in an invalid chair, a silver-headed stick by his side.
He was a big gaunt man, his flesh hanging in loose folds. He had a face rather like a bulldog, with a pugnacious chin. He had thick dark hair flecked with grey, and small suspicious eyes.
"Let's have a look at you, young lady."
Lucy advanced, composed and smiling.
"There's just one thing you'd better understand straight away. Just because we live in a big house doesn't mean we're rich. We're not rich. We live simply – do you hear? - simply! No good coming here with a lot of high-falutin ideas. Cod's as good as a fish as turbot any day, and don't you forget it. I don't stand for waste. I live here because my father built the house and I like it. After I'm dead they can sell it up if they want to