Piet Mondrian Composition with Red Blue Yellow 2

dear lady,' said Vitoller. 'Could I begin to tell you how gratifying it is for a mere mummer to learn that his audience has seen behind the mere shell of greasepaint to the spirit beneath?'
'I expect you could,' said Granny. 'I expect you could say anything, Mr Vitoller.'
He not the kind she was used to.
It was Vitoller's voice. By the mere process of articulation it transformed everything it talked about.
Look at the two of them, she told herself, primping away like a couple of ninnies. Granny stopped her hand in the process of patting her own iron-hard bun, and cleared her throat meaningfully.
'We'd like to talk to you, Mr Vitoller.' She indicated the actors, who were dismantling the setreplaced his hat and their eyes met in the long and calculating stare of one professional weighing up another. Vitoller broke first, and tried to pretend he hadn't been competing.'And now,' he said, 'to what do I owe this visit from three such charming ladies?'In fact he'd won. Granny's mouth fell open. She would not have described herself as anything much above 'handsome, considering'. Nanny, on the other hand, was as gummy as a baby and had a face like a small dried raisin. The best you could say for Magrat was that she was decently plain and well-scrubbed and as flat-chested as an ironing board with a couple of peas on it, even if her head was too well stuffed with fancies. Granny could feel something, some sort of magic at work. But