Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. “All of which doesn’t help me in the slightest degree to pay back that money. And the change, the change of attitude! The way all the old clingingness has been thrown aside is amazing. ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood.
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