Jean Fragonard The Swing

Jean Fragonard The SwingJean Fragonard The Fountain of LoveJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Valencia's PortJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Pink RobeJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Port of Valencia
shut up,’ said Ginger. She stood up and brushed the dust off her dress. Detritus blinked. People didn’t usually tell him to shut up. A few worried fault‑lines appeared on his brow. He turned and tried another loom, this time aimed at Victor.
‘Young Mr Dibbler don’t like‑‘
‘Oh, go away,’ snapped Victor, and wandered off after her.
Detritus stoodglanced at the sun. ‘We’ve lost a lot of time,’ he added, ‘so let’s not waste any more.’
‘Fancy you being able to get C.M.O.T. to give in like that,’ said Victor.
‘He had no argument at all. He’s gone back to his office to sulk, I expect,’ said Soll loftily. ‘OK, everyone, let’s all get‑‘ alone and screwed up his eyes in the effort of thought. Of course, people did occasionally say things like ‘Go away’ and ‘Shut up’ to him, but always with the tremor of terrified bravado in their voice, and so naturally he always riposted ‘Hur hur’ and hit them. But no-one had ever spoken to him as if his existence was the last thing in the world they could possibly be persuaded to worry about. His massive shoulders sagged. Perhaps all this hanging around Ruby was bad for him.Soll was standing over the artist who lettered the cards. He looked up as Victor and Ginger approached.‘Right,’ he said, ‘places, everyone. We’ll go straight on to the ballroom scene.’ He looked pleased with himself.‘Are the words all sorted out?’ said Victor.‘No problem,’ said Soll proudly. He