The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed. I can’t do it even decently myself, and I dare not run the risk of ruining all my clothes. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. I am totally like this on my own. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. “This isn’t a world for an innocent girl to walk about in. Playing became a way of escape. Her heart swelled to suffocation. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment.
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