Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. The woollen-draper was no despicable trencherman in a general way; but his feats with the knife and fork were child's sport compared with those of Mr. “Ann Veronica,” he said, “I tell you this is love. ’ ‘Certainly that is true. The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him.
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