It'll be advertised to-morrow. Chapter IV
THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST
“You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna
said lightly. Not us. As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman
approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first
glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine. "There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden
porch of which was covered with roses and creepers, with a little trim garden in
front of it. I didn’t betray you, I swear I didn’t. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the
muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft
minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all
these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. She felt terribly modern,
even sporty as the magazines declared you should be. ”
He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. There were dark
rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears.
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