” “Who says I don’t? Didn’t you used to live in Arkansas?” “Alabama. I'll bet you haven't given her a bucket of paint in three years. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. The future was not so black. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. ” She covered her face with her hands. ’ ‘How can it be in dispute?’ frowned Mrs Sindlesham. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. ” She shrugged her shoulders. We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot. Mercifully, the Peters had moved to Rhode Island about six months after the tragedy. Somehow or other his reputation as a hardened and unassailable bachelor had won for him during the last few years a comparative immunity from attentions on the part of those women with whom he had been brought into contact.
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