Albert Moore A Musician

Albert Moore A MusicianMark Rothko White over RedPaul Klee Red Bridge
out of your way . . .'
'Honestly, I'd like to.'
She looked at his earnest expression.
'I couldn't put 'It seems to have worked.'
'Yes. It's the best job there is.'
'Really?'
'Oh, yes. Do you know what "policeman" means?'
Angua shrugged. 'No.'you to the trouble,' she said.'That's all right. I like walking. It helps me think.'Angua smiled, despite her desperation.They stepped out into the softer heat of the evening. Instinctively, Carrot settled into the policeman's pace.'Very old street, this,' he said. 'They say there's an underground stream under it. I read that. What do you think?''Do you really like walking?' said Angua, falling into step.'Oh, yes. There are many interesting byways and historical buildings to be seen. I often go for walks on my day off.'She looked at his face. Ye gods, she thought.'Why did you join the Watch?' she said.'My father said it'd make a man of me.'