Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Mr. “Annabel,” she said brusquely. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles. He hesitated. By-the-bye,” he added, in a suddenly altered tone, “I hope, I trust—that you have not entered into any arrangements with any one here?” “I—oh no!” Anna said, a little faintly. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. " "You are offering your hand to me?" "Without reservations. She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit.
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