CHAPTER III. ” “So far,” she continued, eyeing hungrily the last morsel of roll which lay upon her plate, “my only chance of occupation has lain with a photographer who engaged me on the spot and insulted me in half an hour. He came into the club next day, and of course we went for him thick. I wonder why on earth the curtains are drawn. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart. I thought that you loved Paris and your work so much. ’ The old man simply stared at her.
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