Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. " "It is too late," returned Jack, sullenly; "I can't be honest if I would. ‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. I'm heading for bed. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. And now, a fair exchange, Sir.
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