. ’ She spread her hands. ” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. Don’t be frightened, dear. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. The lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. “I suppose some one makes a bit on the food,” she said. “Call me Annabel. ” Anna’s eyes were a little dim as she poured out her coffee, and the laugh she attempted was not altogether a success. Gianfrancesco found himself to be his family’s sole remaining male heir. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament.
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