Jean Beraud Jeune femme traversant le boulevard

Jean Beraud Jeune femme traversant le boulevardJean Beraud A Game of BilliardsHenri Rousseau The Football PlayersPaul Cezanne Young Man with a SkullPaul Cezanne Trees in Park
suit was clean and borrow quite large sums of money from your friends. He was one hundred and thirty. It occurred to him that for most of his life he’d been an old man. Didn’t seem fair, really.
And no-one anyone used tinder boxes these days. They bought the big smelly yellow matches the alchemists made. Windle disapproved. Fire was important. You shouldn’t be able to switch it on just like that, it didn’t show any respect. That was people these days, always rushing around and . . . fires. Yes, it had been a lot warmer in the old days, too.
The kind of fires they had these days didn’t warm you up unless you were had said anything. He’d mentioned it in the Uncommon Room last week, and no-one had taken the hint. And at lunch today they’d hardly spoken to him. Even his old so-called friends seemed to be avoiding him, and he wasn’t even trying to borrow money.It was like not having your birthday remembered, only worse.He was going to die all alone, and no-one cared.He bumped the door open with the wheel of the chair and fumbled on the table by the door for the tinder box.That was another thing. Hardly