’ He glanced about and saw his quarry
holding court at one end of the vast mirrored chamber. The thought of
their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact—
disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. Chapter IV
THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST
“You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna
said lightly. Maggot. You’re a lady all right and tight, and nothing anyone does can
take that away from you. I’ll make any reasonable arrangement you like. One of
your aunts died, I believe, and the other removed to London. This species of madness
cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be. “Go on,” he said. ”
“Never for a second. He waited. I’ve been smoking cigarettes in the preparation-room
and thinking this out. ‘What if she does not agree? Could she reveal us,
damage us amongst our peers? Are you certain that we
should not kill her?’ He asked. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. ’ He
paused for the effect of his words to sink in, and then added, ‘Don’t be so ready
to show hackle.
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