His looks were fixed on his old benefactor. “Girls. “What has he done? “What shall I do. "Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. He too looked at the girl, slackened his pace and looked at her again through his eye-glasses, looked over his shoulder after he had passed, and finally came to a dead stop. 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.
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