’ ‘Yes, do. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. She always dawdled, so it was easy. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. My people don’t know what to do. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. 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. It isn’t. " "Mr.
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