Salvador Dali The Rose

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Dios's boat slid gently through the water and bumped into the jetty. Dios climbed out and hurried into the palace, bounding up the steps three at a time and rubbing his hands together at the thought of a fresh day laid out before him, mask, mind,' he said. Gern, who was working hard on the corner slab on one of the Queen's late cats, which he had been allowed to do all by himself, looked up in horror.
'I done it very careful,' he said sulkily.
'That's the whole point,' said the sculptor.
'I know,' said Dil sadly, 'it's the nose, isn't it.'
'It was more the chin.'
'And the chin.'every hour and ritual ticking neatly into place. So much to organise, so much to be needed for . . . The chief sculptor and maker of mummy cases folded up his measure. 'You done a good job there, Master Dil,' he said. Dil nodded. There was no false modesty between craftsmen. The sculptor gave him a nudge. 'What a team, eh?' he said. 'You pickle 'em, I crate 'em.' Dil nodded, but rather more slowly. The sculptor looked down at the wax oval in his hands. 'Can't say I think much of the death