The fever came. For a time she worried about that compulsory bath and cutaneous diseases. 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. "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket.
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