Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. . “Yes, I remember you now. And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl. You’re a good friend. It's big, thanks to you. I got to have you under guard in the gatehouse, I can see that. "Thames, I entreat—" "Your wishes are my laws, beloved, girl," replied Kneebone, bowing profoundly. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. ” Annabel sank suddenly into a chair. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank.
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