Irwin Griffith has seen this sort of thing up north. -It's a schoolgirl.. What did Inspector Graves say? About the psychology of adolescence.. Pure middle-aged women, hypnotized, would say words they could hardly know, little boys scribbled on the wall with chalk.. No, no, it's not going to be Megan. Heredity? Deep-rooted bad habits? Inherited some abnormal heredity unconsciously? Her misfortune was caused by the curse of her ancestors? "I'm not the right person to be your wife. It's better to hate me than to love me." Oh, my Megan, my little girl. Unable! Absolutely not! That old maid pesters you, she suspects you, says you have the courage, has the courage to do "what"? It was just a whim, and it passed quickly, but I wanted to see Megan-I wanted to see her so badly. At half past nine that night, I left the house and went down the street to the Symingtons' house. At this time, I suddenly had a new idea in my mind,smart interactive whiteboard, thinking of a woman that no one had ever suspected. (Or did Nash suspect her?) It's impossible. It's unbelievable. To this day, I still think it's impossible. But that's not the case. No, it's not entirely impossible. I quickened my pace because I was now more eager to see Megan right away. I went through the front door of the Symington house and came to the front of the house. It was a dark night, the sky began to drizzle, and the visibility was very low. I noticed a light coming through one of the rooms. Is that the small living room? I hesitated for a moment and decided not to go in through the front door. I changed my direction and climbed quietly to the window and hid under a big tree. The light came through a gap in the curtains, which were not completely closed and easy to see inside. It was a strangely serene family scene: Symington sitting in a big rocking chair,information kiosk price, Elsie Helan looking down at a child's shirt. 。 The window was open above so I could hear them talking too. Elsie & # 183; Helan said : 'But I really think both boys are old enough to go to boarding school, Mr Symington. It's not because I like being away from them. No, I like them both too much. "Perhaps you're right about Bilian, Miss Hollan," said Symington. "I've decided to send him to my old college preparatory school, Winhays, next semester. But Colin is still a little small. I'd rather have him at home for another year. "Oh, of course, I know what you mean, and Colin's mentally younger than he really is--" It was all family talk-a peaceful family scene-and the blond hair was buried in the needle and thread. The door suddenly opened and Megan stood upright in the doorway. I noticed at once that she was in a tense mood. Her face was tense and her eyes were shining. Firm and spiritual. Tonight, she didn't seem shy or childish. She spoke to Symington, outdoor digital signage displays ,thermal imaging camera, but did not address him. It suddenly occurred to me that I had never heard her call him "Dad". "Dick"? Or something else? "I want to talk to you alone." Symington seemed surprised, and, I suppose, not very happy. He frowned, but there was a rare firmness about Megan. She turned to Elsie and said to Helan. Would you mind leaving for a moment? Elsie. "Oh, of course not." Elsie & # 183; Helan jumped up. He looked very surprised and a little panicked. She walked to the door. Megan took a step forward. Elsie walked past her. For a moment Elsie stood motionless in the doorway, looking ahead. She stood erect with her mouth tightly closed, one hand held out in front of her, the other still holding her sewing. I held my breath and was suddenly shocked by her beauty. When I think of her now, I think of what she looked like then-standing motionless, with that incomparable perfection that only the ancient Greeks have. Then she went out and closed the door. "Well, Megan, what's the matter?" Said Symington, a little irritably? What do you want? Megan went to the table and stood looking down at Simmington. I was startled again by the firmness of her face and the seriousness I had not seen before. Then she opened her mouth and said something that frightened me even more. I want money. She said. Symington's anger was not appeased by her request. He said sternly, "Can't you wait until tomorrow?"? What's the matter? Do you think you don't have enough pocket money? Even at that time, I still thought he was a reasonable and fair man, but he didn't pay much attention to other people's emotional demands. Megan said, "I want a lot of money." Symington sat up straight and said coldly: "In a few months, you'll be of age, and the public trust will hand over the money your grandmother gave you." Megan said: "You don't know what I mean. I want you to give me money." "No one has told me much about my father," she continued more quickly. "They don't want me to know him, but I know he's been in prison, and I know what the reason is-blackmail!" After a pause, she added: I'm his daughter. Maybe like father, like daughter. But I ask you for the money because-if you don't give it to me- "she stopped and said very slowly and calmly," if you don't give it to me-I'm going to tell you what you did to the medicine bag in Mother's room that day. " After a moment's silence, Symington said in an emotionless voice, "I don't know what you're talking about." She smiled, not a good-natured smile. Symington got up, went to the writing desk, took the checkbook out of his pocket, wrote out a check, carefully dried the ink, and walked back to give it to Megan. "You've grown up," he said. "I know you want to buy clothes and things like that. I don't know what you mean, and I don't care,face recognition identification kiosk, but here's a check for you. Megan looked at the check and said, "Thank you. That should get you through the day." She turned and walked out of the room. Symington watched her go out. When the door closed, he turned around. I saw the expression on his face and quickly took a step up.