Juan Gris The Open Window

Juan Gris The Open WindowJuan Gris The Mountain Le CanigouJuan Gris The Guitar 1918Juan Gris TeacupsJuan Gris Portrait of Josette Gris
made these words, Hwel thought. But they don't belong to me. They belong to him.
Look at ,' said Tomjon.
'A good deal too well, I reckon.'
The boy rubbed his hands together. 'Right. Where shall we go next?'
'Next?'
'Tonight is young!'
'No, tonight is dead. It's today that's young,' said the dwarf hurriedly.
'Well, I'm not going home yet. Isn't there somewhere a bit more friendly? We haven't actually those people. Not a patriotic thought among them, but if Tomjon asked them, this bunch of drunkards would storm die Patrician's palace tonight. And they'd probably succeed.I just hope his mouth never falls into the wrong hands . . .As the last syllables died away, their white-hot echoes searing across every mind in the room, Hwel shook himself and crawled out of hiding and jabbed Tomjon on the knee.'Come away now, you fool,' he hissed. 'Before it wears off.'He grasped the boy firmly by the arm, handed a couple of complimentary tickets to the stunned barman, and hurried up the steps. He didn't stop until they were a street away.'I thought I was doing rather well there