Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. "And I," muttered Jack. His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust. “Oh, damn!” he said. She knew Martha would not ask anything that she did not wish to know. Now, I'll be getting along. Then he was to arrest you and bring you home to me. I am ready to wait for you, to wait your pleasure, to give all my life to winning it.
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