Jack Vettriano Dancing Couple

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dropped.
Mrs Whitlow curtsied.
trays taken up to them all. Daddio.'
Ridcully's gaze continued downwards. He'd never thought of Mrs Whitlow as having legs before. Of course, in theory the woman needed something to move around on, but . . . well . . .
But there were two pudgy knees protruding from the huge mushroom of skirts. Further down there were white socks.
'Your hair–’he began, hoarsely.
'Is there something wrong?' said Mrs Whitlow.
'Nothing, nothing,' said Ponder. 'Thank you very much.''Good morning, hyour grace,' she said.Her ponytail bobbed. There was a rustle of starched petticoats.Ridcully's jaw rose again, but only so that he could say: 'What have you done to your–’'Excuse me, Mrs Whitlow,’ said Ponder quickly, 'but have you served breakfast to any of the faculty this morning?''That's right, Mr Stibbons,’ said Mrs Whitlow. Her ample and mysterious bosom shifted under its sweater. 'None of the gentlemen came down, so I got