Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. Bu projeye başlamak için ekipmanlarını sattı ve ailesinden ve arkadaşlarından destek aldı. “Why?” he asked, suavely. "I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene. He had deliberately saved it for last. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. He hated himself a little for it. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. The eggs were all right, but nobody in this part of the world had the least conception of what the coffee bean was for.
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