The letters on the fly-specked glass were simple, almost dogmatic. Andreson eyed them with some amusement. Art agents seldom have any taste, he thought; can't afford to.

The sign repeated, Special Showing of Surrealist Paintings, and declined to offer further information. Andreson started to walk on, then hovered indecisively. Modern arts of all kinds were his province in preparation for a doctorate thesis. It wouldn't do to let the smallest example go by without inspection. He went in.

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