Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. There must be persons tender and loving in this world.
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