That's part of why she's so fun to play word-games with. She picks up on the little clues (including Clue Zero: everything is a clue). "I do. High-end replicas, for a start. There's a class of people who look at masterpieces and say, 'oh, it's very pretty, if only the colors weren't so faded, or the paint weren't cracking.'" He gives a sardonic smile. "Moderately good taste, but with the expectation that everything be shiny and new. So, give it to them--they know from the start that it isn't the original, so there's no question of fraud, and they get a masterpiece at a fraction of the cost--tens or hundreds of thousands, instead of millions." He pauses, then adds, "and don't think I didn't pick up on that idea of yours. Margaret may have been too distraught, but it could make for an intriguing experience."

Personal docent, indeed; Schön is delighted by the way Verity is picking up the artistic lexicon, and grows livelier and more encouraging the more he sees. Truly, art is a language, and while Verity started with "quiero/no quiero," her vocabulary has been growing by leaps and bounds.

By the time they've worked their way through the first gallery, he's sporting a zestful grin and a spring in his step.