“My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. The doorman replied, tipping his cap, “I don’t speak much Italian these days, not since my mother died. ” But the ring, and her aunt’s triumphant eye, and a note of approval in her father’s manner, and a novel disposition in him to praise Manning in a just, impartial voice had soon placed very definite qualifications upon that covenanted secrecy. She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit. If you don’t eat humble-pie now you may live to fare worse later.
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