english landscape painting

english landscape painting
impressionist landscape painting
modern landscape painting
flower landscape oil painting
Well, it's none of your business, Bunting, now, is it?"
"No, that's true enough. Still, 'twould be a very bad thing for us if anything happened to him. This lodger's the first bit of luck we've had for a terrible long time, Ellen."
Mrs. Bunting moved a little impatiently in her high chair. She remained silent for a moment. What Bunting had said was too obvious to be worth answering. Also she was listening, following in imagination her lodger's quick, singularity quiet progress - "stealthy" she called it to herself - through the fog-filled, lamp-lit hall. Yes, now he was going up the staircase. What was that Bunting was saying ?
"It isn't safe for decent folk to be out in such weather - no, that it ain't, not unless they have something to do that won't wait till to-morrow." The speaker was looking straight into his wife's narrow, colourless face. Bunting was an obstinate man, and liked to prove himself right. "I've a good mind to speak to him about it, that I have! He ought to be told that it isn't safe - not for the sort of man he is - to be wandering about the streets at night. I read you out the accidents in Lloyd's - shocking, they were, and all brought about by the fog! And then, that horrid monster 'ull soon be at his work again - "
"Monster?" repeated Mrs. Bunting absently.