For a long time neither spoke again. But I don’t suppose you can understand. \"Thanks. 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. It depresses one, you know. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. That is what I must do. Afterwards we started for déjeuner in a motor. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. I’ve more than twice your strength and at least ten times your cunning, when it’s needed. As this had been Mrs.
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