Juan Gris The Open WindowJuan Gris The Mountain Le CanigouJuan Gris The Guitar 1918
Seriph nodded at Rincewind. 'You might as well finish them up, then,' he said. 'Nasty crunchy things, I couldn't see the 'My father taught me to play the harmonica,' she volunteered.
Creosote's lips moved soundlessly as he tried out the idea.
'No good,' he said. 'Doesn't scan. Thanks all the same, though.' He gave her another thoughtful look. 'You know, you really are most becoming. Has anyone ever told you your neck is as a tower of ivory?'
'Never,' said Conina.
'Pity,' said Creosote again. He rummaged among his cushions and produced point.''I don't wish to sound ungrateful,' said Conina, over the sound of Rincewind's frantic coughing. 'But why did you have us brought here?''Good question.' Creosote looked at her blankly for a few seconds, as if trying to remember why they were there.'You really are a most attractive young woman,' he said. 'You can't play a dulcimer, by any chance?''How many blades has it got?' said Conina.'Pity,' said the Seriph, 'I had one specially imported.'
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