Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. That could signify nothing except that the doctor had a friend down there somewhere, on an island in one of those archipelagoes. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. . At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled.
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