She felt much better. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. "I was coming to give you intelligence of a comical trick played by this rascal, when I find him here—the last place, I own, where I should have expected to find him. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. She thought of all sorts of odd and desperate expedients, and with passionate petulance rejected them all. We shall have Mr.
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