Bartolome Esteban Murillo Annunciation

Bartolome Esteban Murillo AnnunciationWilliam Bouguereau The Song of the AngelsPierre-Auguste Cot La TempeteRaphael Saint George and the DragonGeorge Frederick Watts Sir Galahad
know, you really are a son of a bitch,’ said Victor.
‘Proud of it,’ said Gaspode, indistinctly. He bolted the last of the steak. ‘What shall we do now?’
‘I’m supposed to get an early night. We’re starting for Ankh very early tomorrow,’ said Victor doubtfully.
‘Still not made any progress with the book?’
‘No.’ Eventually the dog said, ‘It’s got all marks on it.’
Victor sighed. ‘That’s writing,’ he said.
Gaspode squinted. ‘What, all them little pictures?’
‘Early writing was like that. People drew little pictures to represent ideas.’
‘So . . . if there’s a lot of one picture, it means it’s an important idea?’ ‘Let me have a look, then.’ ‘Can you read?’ ‘Dunno. Never tried.’ Victor looked around them. No-one was paying him any attention. They never did. Once the handles stopped turning, no-one bothered about performers; it was like being temporarily invisible. He sat down on a pile of lumber, opened the book randomly at an early page, and held it out in front of Gaspode’s critical stare.
‘What? Well, yes. I suppose so.’