Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you. She had nothing to say for herself. Sheppard, raising herself, and looking at him as if her life depended upon the answer. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. She flushed with desire and happiness, her husband had returned to her and all would be aright.
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