Juan Gris Man in the Cafe

Juan Gris Man in the CafeJuan Gris Landscape with Houses at CeretGeorge Bellows Club Night
Never known a night like it,’ Miss Flitworth said. There was another crack of thunder. Sheet lightning fluttered around the horizon.
Miss Flitworth clutched Bill Door’s arm.
‘Isn’t that . . . a . POSING. I NEVER DID ANYTHING LIKE THAT. WHY DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT? WHAT PURPOSE DOES IT SERVE?
He opened his palm. The gold timer appeared.
‘How much longer have you got?’
PERHAPS AN HOUR. PERHAPS MINUTES.
‘Come on, then!’
Bill Door remained where he was, looking at the timer.figure on the hill?’ she said. ‘Thought I saw a...shape.’NO, IT’S MERELY A MECHANICAL CONTRIVANCE.There was another flash.‘On a horse?’ said Miss Flitworth.A third sheet seared across the sky. And this time there was no doubt about it. There was a mounted figure on the nearest hilltop. Hooded. Holding a scythe as proudly as a lance.POSING. Bill Door turned towards Miss Flitworth