E. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. It was bad luck to go to Canongate. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Altogether, it was a hideous and revolting sight.
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