She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. 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. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard.
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