Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. She lived, he noted, very carelessly. “Hey John, how’s it going?” “Hey Michelle. "Why did I want it under my pillow?" he asked. I studied violin with a teacher when I was younger,” she said. “I must live, you know.
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