Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage. Jesus! They just wouldn’t let up about you after you played the violin for them. “Of course it is okay!” Cathy’s voice rose in volume and in pitch. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. Sheppard, somewhat alarmed by this preamble. Lucy looked about confusedly. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat.
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