The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. “You, anyhow, don’t deserve it,” he said. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. "I eat for both. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits.
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