They had much to talk about, or rather Miss Prudence had. 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. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. He turned, expecting to see his wife. "Don't fire," cried the latter. "The sums lavished upon those people are perfectly disgraceful, and I should be enchanted to see them hooted from the stage. “What can you do?” she asked. . Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's.
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