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“You’re burning up. “Damn”. ‘Hollow. 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. At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over
every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily
kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most
skilful attempts to draw him out. “Most of it is ugly and frowsy,” she declared, “but it isn’t worth talking about. ”
Thank Heaven! Mr. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. "
When Spurlock had finished the tale, touched here and there by his own
imagination, McClintock made a negative sign. She began to look for beauty and
discover it in unexpected aspects and places. “Tell him that he is mad. “Are
you looking for Mike? He’s working.
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This video was uploaded to aoktires.info on 13-07-2024 05:15:56