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Vance, Louis Joseph, 1879-1933

"Alias the Lone Wolf"

"
"Oh, come along!" Lanyard growled, offering to rise. "You know too
confounded much." He waited a moment, and then as she did nothing but
sit and glimmer at him mischievously, he added: "Shall we go?"
"Where now?" she enquired without stirring.
He had a shrug of distaste. "Maxim's, I presume. Unless you can suggest
some other place, more likely and less tedious."
"No," she replied after taking thought; "I can't. We've covered Paris
pretty thoroughly to-night; all except the tourist places."
"No good wasting time on them."
"Then let's stop on here till it's time to milk the cows."
"Pre-Catelan? But there's Maxim's left--"
"Only another tourist show nowadays. And frightfully rowdy."
"Sounds like the lot I'm after. Come along."
She shook her head vigorously. "Shan't!" His eyebrows rose in mute
enquiry. "Because I don't want to," she explained with childlike
candour. "I'm tired of being dragged around and plied with drink. Do
you realise I've had as much as two and a half glasses of champagne
to-night, out of the countless bottles you've ordered? Well, I have,
and they're doing their work: I feel the spirit of independence surging
in my midst.


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