Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. "Leave go!" cried Jack, struggling violently, and raising his hand, "or I'll maul you for life. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. The girl’s gaze met his in interested inquiry. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. "Iss, Massa. I’ll wait my whole life!” He cried. Then she stood up and looked around the room. “That’s the point. ” He fancied that she was yielding, but her eyes fell once more upon that fatal envelope, and her tone when she spoke was colder than ever.
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