‘Even the nuns they say I am like a devil. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. My thanks, by the by. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. Nothing seemed to be amiss. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Wood," added she in a hollow voice, and with a ghastly look, "gin may bring ruin; but as long as poverty, vice, and ill-usage exist, it will be drunk.
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