Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. “Since last night. " "I don't care for that," replied Jack. Lucy wore it every day from then on. Her fingers rested upon his. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. " He departed, musing. "I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is.
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