Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. I may tell him, at any rate, that you will see him?” “I shall like to see him,” Anna answered. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. “I do not know. We smirk, and we’re a bit—furtive. ‘Was this when Nicholas commended you to this Abbess?’ ‘But, yes. We came on here at once.
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