He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. There were some deepseated fears of the rot spreading to England, if the simmering discontent of the peasantry of France were to erupt any further. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. He seemed to be. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof.
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