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. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. Too much, perhaps. ” He stood up rather close to her and looked into her eyes. Her eyes threatened to leak tears, she blinked. . And probably the girl would wear herself out, too. ‘What now?’ ‘Now,’ she answered flatly, ‘you will please to tell me at once why you have come here.
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