Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Rubbishy novels and pernicious rascals. You'd not know what to do without me, and shan't drive me off. For that matter, my future be damned. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. . She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. ‘Very well, Kimble. ” “Of course not,” Anna said. "What do you want with me?" "A word in private," replied the other. ” The three men, who had arrived within a minute or two of one another, received her little speech in dead silence.
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