The students in the room were all dumbfounded.
Then, Professor Sherman let out an anguished cry:
"My painting—"
A long gash had been torn straight down from the top of the scroll. The sight broke Professor Sherman's heart. He rushed forward to touch the paper, his face contorted in distress.
"Didn't I tell you to be careful? Just look at this... this tear... I borrowed this from The Calligraphy Association... Oh, you two..." Professor Sherman's face was ashen with anger as he jabbed his finger fiercely between the two of them.
Joyce Guthrie replied with a guilty expression, "I'm sorry, Professor Sherman. It's my fault. I didn't have a firm grip. Please don't blame Aurora; I lost my balance."
But Professor Sherman was so furious he just roared, "Don't even think about shirking responsibility! Both of you, come to my office after class!"
Aurora Sinclair pursed her lips, glanced at the painting, and then suddenly began rolling the entire scroll back up.
