As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she
came face to face with Courtlaw. 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’s a
mismatch. Deserted by his older companion in iniquity, and instigator to
crime, he did not know what might become of him; nor, as we have observed,
was the sad spectacle he had just witnessed, without effect.
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This video was uploaded to flood-rescue.com on 12-07-2024 00:56:27