Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. You shall lie upon your back; your head shall be covered; and your feet shall be bare. “I don’t care,” said Ann Veronica. " Ruth slightly brushed the withered cheek. ‘What’s more, I wouldn’t blame her. “I don’t think I CAN do that,” she said. Altogether different. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. " O'Higgins, bitten with disappointment, returned the photograph to his pocket.
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