“He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. ” “Okay. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. “It’s odd—I have no doubt in my mind that what we are doing is wrong,” he said.
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