" Sheppard's name operated like magic on the crowd. 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. A pig, yes, a little. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. “Ever yours, “ANNABEL.
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