Juan Gris The Violin

Juan Gris The ViolinJuan Gris The Painter's WindowJuan Gris The Open WindowJuan Gris The Mountain Le CanigouJuan Gris The Guitar 1918
all the way down.
'No,' she said.
He considered the options. 'All right,' he said.
Granny turned back and nodded to the actors, who had paused to watch her.
'I don't know what you're staring ?' she said. 'Why're all them kings and people up there?'
'It's a banquet, see,' said Nanny Ogg authoritatively. 'Because of the dead king, him in the boots, as was, only now if you look, you'll see he's pretending to be a soldier, and everyone's making speeches about how good he was and wondering who killed him.'
'Are they?' said Granny, grimly. She cast her eyes along the cast, looking for the murderer.
She was making up her mind. 'I still don't think you quite understand.'
'Well, I'm going to get to the bottom of it,' snapped Granny. She got back on to the stage and pulled aside the sacking curtains.
'You!' she shouted. 'You're dead 'You done the murder.' She looked sideways at Magrat, and admitted, grudgingly, 'Leastways, it looked like it.'
'So glad. It is always a pleasure