She was leaning over him and he smelled her like he had never smelled anyone before. Wood. ‘Have I not said so?’ ‘No, as it happens. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,—mind that.
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