Nothing was given away, and no one came so rich to the stall as to command all that it had to offer. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. Jonathan, however, was well acquainted with the road. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly.
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