I saw the first woman sculptor I’d ever met one last time. Five years after the party in Boston, when Ann Whitney wrote she would be visiting Rome, I was glad to take time away from my work in order to enjoy her company. We arranged to meet for dinner at Caffé Greco. 

            The Madonna and Child I was working on looked as bad-tempered as I was that afternoon. People imagine Rome to be a paradise of golden sun, but a late summer thunder storm had stolen the light from my tall windows, and my studio was so su...

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