” “But how can I help it? How can I keep silence?” “Please!” she insisted. "In spots you are a thoroughbred; but here's a black mark on your ticket, lad. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own. When he comes he will do that raid of the pantechnicons the justice it deserves; he will picture the orderly evening scene about the Imperial Legislature in convincing detail, the coming and going of cabs and motor-cabs and broughams through the chill, damp evening into New Palace Yard, the reinforced but untroubled and unsuspecting police about the entries of those great buildings whose square and panelled Victorian Gothic streams up from the glare of the lamps into the murkiness of the night; Big Ben shining overhead, an unassailable beacon, and the incidental traffic of Westminster, cabs, carts, and glowing omnibuses going to and from the bridge. Words were given with their original meaning, without their ramifications. "Let us fly from this frightful place. I'll have no such toast drunk at my table!" "It's the king's birthday," urged the woollen draper. .
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