Claude Monet Terrace at St AdresseClaude Monet Cliffs Near DieppeClaude Monet A Corner of the Studio
against her and gave it a critical examination.
There was a small mirror against the wall.
After a certain amount of internal tussling Magrat gave in and tried the dress on. It wasn’t as if she’d be wearing it tomorrow. If she never did try it on, she’d always wonder if it had fitted.
It fitted. Or, rather, it didn’t fit but in a flattering way. Whatever Verence had paid, it had been worth it. The dress-maker had done cunning things with the material, so that it went in where Magrat went straight up and down and bil-lowed out . And they’d find out. About the letter. News went around Lancre faster than turpentine through a sick donkey.
She’d have to go away. Perhaps find somewhere where there were no witches and start up again, although at the moment her feelings about witches were such that she’d pre-fer practically any other profession, insofar as there were other professions for an ex-witch.
Magrat stuck out her chin. The way she felt now, withwhere Magrat didn’t.The veil had silk flowers on the headband.I’m not going to start crying again, Magrat told herself. I’m going to stay angry. I’m going to wind up the anger until it’s thick enough to become rage, and when they come back I shall—l what? She could try being icy. She could sweep majestically past them . . . this was a good dress for that . . . and that’d teach them.And then what? She couldn’t stay here, not with every-one knowing
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