Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. "Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily. In fiction you make the Chinese secretive, criminal, and terrible—or comic. Oh, and weeks and months of thought and feeling there are bottled up too. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle.
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