Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. . “Mind my smoking?” said Roddy. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. “Let’s go outside. For what could be more ironical than for Howard Spurlock to see himself grow famous under the name of Taber? The ambrosia of which he had so happily dreamt!—and this gall and wormwood! He stood up and rapped his pipe on the rail. I made her my unwilling confederate. For a long time neither spoke again. The bodies had been found in the river without their heads, which were busy decomposing in a ravine. The youth with the hair brushed back and the spectacled Scotchman joined in the fray for and against the women’s vote.
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