True, on board the ships she had watched young men from afar, but only with that normal curiosity which is aroused in the presence of any new species. Not like my father. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. But never mind that. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened.
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