“Do you know, Jeanne,” her tone became animated, “people come a long distance from north, south, east and west, thousands of miles, to view the wonders of this place. And who can blame them? But, after all, when they are here, throngs and throngs of them, they themselves are more interesting than all the marvels they come to see.”
“Ah, yes. It is so.
“But, Florence!” Jeanne cried suddenly. “I have found such a charm of a place! And we may dine there if we hurry.
“Ah, but I fear the buses are stopped. See, all the lights are fading.” Her voice dropped.
It was true. The lights were fading. Here a brightly illuminated tower went dark, there a fiery fountain became a well of blackness, and there an endless chain of light vanished into the night.
“It is like the end of the world!” Jeanne said in an awed whisper.
“But this place you speak of? Is it far?” Florence sprang to her feet.
“Oh, yes, very far.”
“Then we will go. I am tired of seeing and hearing. A long walk will be just grand.”
“And, ah! to see this place by moonlight!” Jeanne clasped her hands. “That will be so very wonderful!”