Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. “And me. Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. “I have been training myself to look askance at beautiful things. We have both tried hard to develop it—you and I —and we have failed. I could never have talked to you like this, forgetting everything that parts us, forgetting even your age, if I did not love you utterly. He had nothing more to say either to her or to Spurlock. The body of Sir Rowland was then laid on the large table.
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