The lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. I don’t care what divides us. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. "And on my part, I shall not lift a hand to defend myself. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping.
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