Vincent van Gogh Wheat Fields

Vincent van Gogh Wheat FieldsEdward Hopper Summer EveningEdward Hopper Room in New York
rather better than you. I suppose you'll just have to do.'
She swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
'Have to do what?' said Mort, to no-one in particular.
The room was silent, except for the sizzle of the frying pan and the crumbling of coals in the molten heart of the stove. old men who always look as though they are wearing gloves with the fingers cut out – even when they're not – and his walking involved a complicated sequence of movements. Albert leaned forward and his left arm started to swing, slowly at first but soon evolving into a wild jerking movement that finally and suddenly, at about the time when Mort saw that it had the words 'The Little Moloch (Ptntd)' embossed on its oven door.The cook didn't seem to notice him, so Mort pulled up a chair and sat down at the white scrubbed table.'Mushrooms?' said the old man, without looking around.'Hmm? What?''I said, do you want mushrooms?''Oh. Sorry. No, thank you,' said Mort.'Right you are, young sir.'He turned around and set out for the table.Even after he got used to it, Mort always held his breath when he watched Albert walking. Death's manservant was one of those stick-thin, raw-nosed