The Night-Cellar. I mean my cut-offs and boots. 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. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. “The fellow is not such a blackguard, after all. This was a much more serious task than he anticipated. Wild in my presence! He's the right-hand of the community! We could do nothing without him!" "We!" repeated Wood, significantly. And in this fact lay his danger. Gerald caught the look and slipped the weapon into his pocket.
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