Camille Pissarro The garden at Pontoise 1877 painting

Camille Pissarro The garden at Pontoise 1877 paintingCamille Pissarro Louveciennes The Road to Versailles paintingCamille Pissarro Landscape at Chaponval painting
pulled down to her eyes with a diamond arrow in it; she had a small dog under her arm, three-quarters buried in the fur of her coat. She greeted us with an unusual show of interest.
‘Well, you are a pair of pickles; I must say you look remarkably well on it. The only time I got tight I was paralysed all the next day. I do think you might have taken me with you. The ball was positively lethal, and I’ve always longed to go to the Old Hundredth. No one will ever take me. Is it heaven?’
‘So you know all about that, too?’
‘Rex telephoned me this morning and told me everything. What were your girl friends like?’
‘Don’t be prurient,’ said Sebastian.
‘Mine was like a skull.’
‘Mine was like a consumptive.’
‘Goodness.’ It had clearly raised us in Julia’s estimation that we had been out with women; to her they were the point of interest.