At last I tried a dramatic agent, and got on the music hall stage. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. “Hainault, Celeste’s friend. In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. If there’s any one here whom you have not met I will make you acquainted with them after dinner. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. Mr.
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