It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. “Sooner or later, John, it will come to that. "Take my life, if you're so disposed. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. But I'll never part with your irons. Or, better still, put all my clothes in the trunk. “You must tell me the truth, please. 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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