Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. "So the wheelman told you? I've always spoken it, though I can neither read nor write it. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. She could have traded it for gold nuggets and lived like a queen for a few weeks, but she did not. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. Secretly she was gratified to be assigned to the rôle of an old traveller. " She paused. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. Leave Martin Chen and his family alone. “Muck-headed moral ass! I ought to have done anything.
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