Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. " "Devil take the key!" ejaculated Wood. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. ” “That’s why, in a way, I’m prudish. ” She took a step. The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men. Dead or alive, I'll have him. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed.
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