Conscience drove him to this side of the world, to this bed. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. She knew it was to be a long night, and her stomach turned with the knowledge that Cathy and Larry Beck would be waiting to pick her up after the questioning, which meant they would be up all night despite the fact they both had jobs to go to in the morning. Bah. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. For the rest, she derived her ideas of the married state from the observed behavior of married women, which impressed her in Morningside Park as being tied and dull and inelastic in comparison with the life of the young, and from a remarkably various reading among books. "You have," rejoined Jonathan, laying a forcible grasp on his shoulder. Ann Veronica looked bright and a little elated, and she disregarded her father’s invitation to be seated. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. I cannot let you go.
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