Igor V.Babailov paintings

Igor V.Babailov paintings
Juarez Machado paintings
Joan Miro paintings
Jean-Honore Fragonard paintings
Daisy pouted. "Oh, father, I think you might let me have a treat on my birthday! I told him that Saturday wasn't a very good day - at least, so I'd heard - for Madame Tussaud's. Then he said we could go early, while the fine folk are still having their dinners." She turned to her stepmother, then giggled happily. "He particularly said you was to come, too. The lodger has a wonderful fancy for you, Ellen; if I was father, I'd feel quite jealous!"
Her last words were cut across by a, tap-tap on the door.
Bunting and his wife looked at each other apprehensively. Was it possible that, in their agitation, they had left the front door open, and that someone, some merciless myrmidon of the law, had crept in behind them?
Both felt a curious thrill of satisfaction when they saw that it was only Mr. Sleuth - Mr. Sleuth dressed for going out; the tall hat he had worn when he had first come to them was in his hand, but he was wearing a coat instead of his Inverness cape.