“NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. “Well,” she achieved at last. It was cheating, pitiful cheating. He’s nice. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. This, then, must be the person whom he had seen spring upon the western platform at the time of the collision between the boats.
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