On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. "Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though. “By God! Ann Veronica,” he said, sighing deeply. She stood without motion and without strength. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly.
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