Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Wood, disdainfully. ‘Eh bien, Eugénie. I might add that in any case I should not touch Sir John’s. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. " And, followed by the young couple, who gazed wistfully at the poor sufferer, he hastily quitted the room, and locked the door after him. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. .
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