Henri Rousseau Sleeping Gypsy

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I’m sorry,’ he babbled. ‘I’ll go back and wait for you to get dressed . . . ‘
‘I am dressed.’
‘Mr Dibbler says-’ said Detritus, behind them.
‘Come on,’ said Ginger, grabbing his arm. ‘We mustn’t keep everyone waiting.’
‘But seeing you like that?’ said Victor, amazed.
‘Why should I? This is moving pictures. It’s not as if it’s real. Anyway, you’d be amazed at what girls have to do for a lot less than ten dollars a day.’
‘Nine,’ said Gaspode, who was still trailing at Victor’s heels.
‘Right, gather round, people,’ shouted Dibbler through a
megaphone. ‘Sons of the Desert over there, please. The slave
girls - where are the slave girls? Right. Handlemen?–’
‘I’ve never seen so many people in a click,’ Ginger whispered. ‘It must be costing more than a hundred dollars!’ you’re . . . your . . . ‘ Victor looked down, which wasn’t a help. ‘You’ve got a navel in your diamond,’ he hazarded. ‘I’ve come to terms with that,’ said Ginger, flexing her shoulders in an effort to make everything settle. ‘It’s these two saucepan lids that are giving me problems. Makes you realize what those poor girls in the harems must suffer.’ ‘And you don’t mind people