Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. ’ Melusine rose from her chair in sudden irritation. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. Twenty-one, twenty-two.
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