"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. They had both been unsuccessful. It’s a damned hard thing to do. “I have always,” she admitted calmly, “taken a certain amount of interest in Annabel’s future. He sat before a desk littered all over with papers and official looking documents. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. She had come to the end of her resources. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline. ’ Gerald stood back, and watched her cross the room to the closed French doors. She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love. You may perceive harmony, proportion, rhythm, intensely. E. ‘You’re not going to kill me this time.
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