Henri Rousseau The Dream paintingPaul Cezanne Trees in Park paintingPaul Cezanne Table Corner painting
the shocking news, which she daresaid had brought me to the P.P.P.O. I understood then the several initials and, reminded of the general crisis by a dimming of the lights, bid her not fear the alarming reports from Founder's Hill and the Light House, since all radical progress entailed some temporary disorder.
"Oh no, sir," she said -- a pert thing she, in her olive skirt and blouse and her dark-rimmed spectacles -- "I meant what that Ira Hector's gone and done." She'd led me down a short hall to a glass-paned double door labeledPHILOSOPHICAL FUND: EXECUTIVE SECRETARY . "None of my, I'm sure," she declared, opening the door with a fetching thrust of her hip, "but I still think Ira Hector's a nasty old man and the P-G.'s a sweetie. I'll tell him you're here."
Curious as I was to know what news she alluded to, I was more so at the sight, in the P.P.F. Office, of what appeared to be the same shaggy band of indigent scholars I'd rescued Ira Hector from in the morning. Beggars now as then, and no less disdainful
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