Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. "For what?" "I had the paper with me. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. " "We shall see," rejoined Jonathan, turning carelessly upon his heel. Michelle burst into laughter, followed by John, who almost spit up his cola.
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