Pierre Auguste Renoir La LogeEdward Hopper GasEdward Hopper Room in Brooklyn
At that moment the king collapsed, growing smaller and smaller in the air as the field finally collapsed into a tiny, brilliant pinpoint. It happened so quickly that Mort almost missed it. From ghost to mote in half a second, with a faint sigh.
Death liked style.
They were on the roof before he spoke again.
You TRIED TO WARN HIM, he said, removing Binky's nosebag.
'Yes, sir. Sorry.'
YOU CANNOT INTERFERE WITH FATE. WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE WHO SHOULD LIVE AND WHO SHOULD DIE?
Death watched Mort's expression carefully.gently caught the glittering thing and stowed it away somewhere under his robe.'What's happened to him?' said Mort.ONLY HE KNOWS, said Death. COME.'My granny says that dying is like going to sleep,' Mort added, a shade hopefully.I WOULDN'T KNOW. I HAVE DONE NEITHER.Mort took a last look along the corridor. The big doors had been flung back and the court was spilling out. Two older women were endeavouring to comfort the princess, but she was striding ahead of them so that they bounced along behind her like a couple of fussy balloons. They disappeared up another corridor.ALREADY A QUEEN, said Death, approvingly. Death
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment