Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. Blueskin, you are a true friend. While this was going on, Blueskin, seeing no notice whatever taken of him, coughed loudly and repeatedly. Sweatshirts and sweatpants were in for a while but they’re out now. “Am I dull?” she said.
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