Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. They shall hear of me no more. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. “No! My father. A dresser, a washstand, and a clothes press.
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