She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. "I do," replied Jack, carelessly. She was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous.
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