The audience clapped more heartily. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. They went into Michelle's tiny bedroom, bare except for a dresser, a closet, and a miniscule single bed that resembled her own at the Becks. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation.
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