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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. “What do you think of them?” Anna extended her critical survey and shrugged her shoulders. “Of course!” he said. The mob now directed their attention to Newgate; and, from their threats, appeared determined to fire it. . His literary instincts began to stir. ‘We were wondering about that.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 12:21:53