abstract acrylic painting

abstract acrylic painting
'perpetrators'? I mean that first bit you read out."
"Yes," he said, turning to her eagerly.
"Then do they think there's more than one of them?" she said, and a look of relief came over her thin face.
"There's some of our chaps thinks it's a gang," said Chandler. "They say it can't be the work of one man."
"What do you think, Joe?"
"Well, Mrs. Bunting, I don't know what to think. I'm fair puzzled."
He got up. "Don't you come to the door. I'll shut it all right. So long! See you to-morrow, perhaps." As he had done the other evening, Mr. and Mrs. Bunting's visitor stopped at the door. "Any news of Miss Daisy?" he asked casually.
"Yes; she's coming to-morrow," said her father. "They've got scarlet fever at her place. So Old Aunt thinks she'd better clear out."

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Very well!" said the President, "we will question him. But we must proceed in order."
The Advocate-General rose:
"It would, perhaps, be better," he said, "if the young man were to tell us now whom he suspects."
The President nodded ironically:
"If the Advocate-General attaches importance to the deposition of Monsieur Joseph Rouletabille, I see no reason why this witness should not give us the name of the murderer."
A pin drop could have been heard. Rouletabille stood silent looking sympathetically at Darzac, who, for the first time since the opening of the trial, showed himself agitated.
"Well," cried the President, "we wait for the name of the murderer." Rouletabille, feeling in his waistcoat pocket, drew his watch and, looking at it, said:
"Monsieur President, I cannot name the murderer before half-past six o'clock!"
Loud murmurs of disappointment filled the room. Some of the lawyers were heard to say: "He's making fun of us!"

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african abstract painting
Oh, he was a little man who looked as if he merely lived to oil his hair. He rather stared, at first, as if he wasn't used to having girls bounce into his shop and ask him to buy their hair. He said he didn't care about mine, it wasn't the fashionable colour, and he never paid much for it in the first place; the work put into it made it dear, and so on. It was getting late, and I was afraid, if it wasn't done right away, that I shouldn't have it done at all, and you know when I start to do a thing, I hate to give it up; so I begged him to take it, and told him why I was in such a hurry. It was silly, I dare say, but it changed his mind, for I got rather excited, and told the story in my topsy-turvy way, and his wife heard, and said so kindly: "Take it, Thomas, and oblige the young lady; I'd do as much for our Jimmy any day if I had a spire of hair worth selling".' ¡¡¡¡`Who was Jimmy?' asked Amy, who liked to have things explained as they went along. ¡¡¡¡`Her son, she said, who was in the army. How friendly such things make strangers feel, don't they? She talked away all the time the man clipped, and diverted my mind nicely.' ¡¡¡¡`Didn't you feel dreadfully when the first cut came?' asked Meg, with a shiver. ¡¡¡¡`I took a last look at my hair while the man got his things, and that was the end of it. I never snivel over trifles like that; I will confess, though, I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair laid out on the table, and felt only the short, rough ends on my head. It almost seemed as if I'd an arm or a leg off. The woman saw me look at it, and picked out a long lock for me to keep. I'll give it to you, Marmee, just to remember past glories by; for a crop is so comfortable I don't think I shall ever have a mane again.' ¡¡¡¡Mrs. March folded the wavy chestnut lock, and laid it away with a short grey one in her desk. She only said, `Thank you, deary', but something in her face made the girls change the subject, and talk as cheerfully as they could about Mr. Brooke's kindness, the prospect of a fine day tomorrow, and the happy times they would have when Father came home to be nursed.

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He shook hands kindly, but looked as if something did not please him. When they got into the hall, Jo asked Laurie if she had said anything amiss. He shook his head. ¡¡¡¡`No, it was me; he doesn't like to hear me play.' ¡¡¡¡`Why not?' ¡¡¡¡`I'll tell you some day. John is going home with you, as I can't.' ¡¡¡¡`No need of that; I am not a young lady, and it's only a step. Take care of yourself, won't you?' ¡¡¡¡`Yes; but you will come again, I hope?' ¡¡¡¡`If you promise to come and see us after you are well.' ¡¡¡¡`I will.' ¡¡¡¡`Good night, Laurie!' ¡¡¡¡`Good night, Jo, good night!' ¡¡¡¡When all the afternoon's adventures had been told, the family felt inclined to go visiting in a body, for each found something very attractive in the big house on the other side of the hedge: Mrs. March wanted to talk of her father with the old man who had not forgotten him; Meg longed to walk in the conservatory; Beth sighed for the grand piano; and Amy was eager to see the fine pictures and statues. ¡¡¡¡`Mother, why didn't Mr. Laurence like to have Laurie play?' asked Jo, who was of an inquiring disposition. ¡¡¡¡`I am not sure, but I think it was because his son, Laurie's father, married an Italian lady, a musician, which displeased the old man, who is very proud. The lady was good and lovely and accomplished, but he did not like her, and never saw his son after he married. They both died when Laurie was a little child, and then his grandfather took him home. I fancy the boy, who was born in Italy, is not very strong, and the old man is afraid of losing him, which makes him so careful. Laurie comes naturally by his love of music, for he is like his mother, and I dare say his grandfather fears that he may want to be a musician; at any rate, his skill reminds him of the woman he did not like, and so he "glowered", as Jo said.'