She felt it would save explanations if she did not state she had left her home and was looking for employment. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. It was the largest room in the house, which was why it had been given over to the main business of the convent as a house of God. “It’s because I mean to send it back altogether,” she said. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. That’s why I chucked Manning.
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