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. Frequently he would take up a box of talc and send a shower down his back, or fill his palms with the powder and rub his face and arms and hands. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. . ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones.
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