Unknown Artist Bruce Lee painting

Unknown Artist Bruce Lee paintingUnknown Artist Audrey Hepburn paintingUnknown Artist Audrey Hepburn pop art painting
day or two.
Roger got in first on the telephone. “I say, are you free on Wednesday evening?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“I wondered if you’d dine with us.”
“Not at half past six for the Finsbury Theatre?”
“No. I work late these days at the Red China Supply Committee.”
“What time then?”
“Oh, any time after eight. Dress or not, just as you feel like it.”
“What will you and Lucy be doing?”
“Well, I suppose we shall dress. In case anyone wants to go on anywhere.”
“In fact, it’s a dinner party?”
“Well, yes, in a kind of way.”
It was plain that poor Roger was dismayed at this social mushroom which had sprung up under his nose. As a face-saver the telephone call was misconceived, for a little note from Lucy was already in the post for me. It was not for me to mock these little notes; I had begun it. But an end had to be made to them, so I decided to answer this by telephone, choosing the early afternoon when I assumed Roger would be out. He was in, and answered me. “I wanted to speak to Lucy.”