“You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. ” She gave him a Marboro which he lit with a Zippo with an American flag on it. . “Mr. " "Lord bless us!" ejaculated Wood, "how shocking! No, I did not know that. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. His attitude was as different from Gianfrancesco’s as night was from day. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. ’ ‘As we see.
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