There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. “You would believe that life is kindled by the passions alone. 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. They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. "That's it!"—eagerly. Michelle shrugged her off. Of course this thing was absolutely impossible. What would happen when confronted by the actual? He was young; she was also young and physically beautiful—his lawful wife. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason.
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