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CHAPTER XXIV
"Along white roadways thou shalt travel
Whereon men thirst."
The Bard of the Dimbovitza.
Through the hot July afternoon Anne Bradford worked with fierce zest. An Italian boy was posing for her, a tiny creature whose big brown eyes and pointed chin suggested a baby faun. Anne's eyes shone as she sketched the shaggy curls. At length the child grew tired and she sent him home.
The artist too was exhausted, but she did not know it. She climbed the steps to the gallery and looked out upon the deserted Square. All the shutters were closed. Only here and there a row of small flower-pots upon a window-sill betrayed the presence of some lingering Bohemian.
Anne leaned her elbows upon the window-seat and dropped her head upon her
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