Mark Rothko White over Red

Mark Rothko White over RedPaul Klee Red BridgePaul Klee Red And White DomesPaul Klee Fire in the EveningPaul Klee Farbtafel
Matters in hand. He'd put matters in hand all right. If he closed his eyes he could see the body tumbling down the steps. Had there been a hiss of shocked breath, down in the darkness of the hall? He'd been certain they were probably end up with her usual dancing on the table, showing her petticoats and singing 'The Hedgehog Can Never be Buggered at All'.
The table was covered with copper coins. Vitoller and his wife sat at either end, counting. It was something of a race.
Granny considered Mrs Vitoller as she snatched farthings from under her husband's fingers. She was an intelligent-looking woman, who appeared to treat her husband much as a sheepdog treats a favourite lamb. The alone. Matters in hand! He'd tried to wash the blood off his hand. If he could wash the blood off, he told himself, it wouldn't have happened. He'd scrubbed and scrubbed. Scrubbed till he screamed. Granny wasn't at home in public houses. She sat stiffly to attention behind her port-and-lemon, as if it were a shield against the lures of the world.Nanny Ogg, on the other hand, was enthusiastically downing her third drink and, Granny thought sourly, was well along that path which would