Leroy Neiman Hand Off Superbowl III

Leroy Neiman Hand Off Superbowl IIIJean-Honore Fragonard the readerJean-Honore Fragonard the lock
the side of the waiting elfs neck. It reeled away Magrat bolted for the nearest doorway, weeping in panic, and wrenched at the handle. It swung open. She darted through, slammed the door, flailed in the dark for the bars, felt them clonk home, and collapsed on to her knees.
Something hit the door outside.
After a while Magrat opened her eyes, and then won-
dered if she really had that got used recently. Most people in Lancre still used tinderboxes. Only the king could afford matches all the way from Ankh-Morpork. Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg got them too, but they didn’t buy them. They got given them. It was easy to get given things, if you were a witch.
Magrat lit the stub of candle, and turned to see what kind of room she’d scuttled into.opened her eyes, because the dark-ness was no less dark. There was a feeling of space in frontl “He’s just an old soppy really”—from the Nanny Ogg Book of Cat Sayings. 216LORQ6 ft/VQ iftOf£Sof her. There were all sorts of things in the castle, old hidden rooms, anything . . . there could be a pit there, there could be anything. She fumbled for the doorframe, guided herself upright, and then groped cautiously in the general direction of the wall.There was a shelf. This was a candle. And this was a bundle of matches.So, she insisted above her own heartbeat, this was a room