She began to think persistently of Capes, and it seemed to her now that for some weeks at least she must have been thinking persistently of him unawares. All the same, I don’t admit it. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. You haven’t had it on your mind all this time?” “I have rather. If we do not begin—” She had come to a resolution. Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly.
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