‘Now then, girl. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. . . She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat. 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. I shouldn't care to have attention constantly drawn to us. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how.
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