E. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. She could feel Michelle’s nervousness leaching into her spine. The third item she took with a trembling hand by its waistbelt. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. I can vouch for that.
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