The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead,
and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. 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. With me
behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And
just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate
intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally
distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson
ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans
and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic
band and securing it under a tight hood. I
am bothered. I have never loved you.
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This video was uploaded to aoktires.info on 04-07-2024 22:39:12