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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. The
inherent conscience keeps most of us away from jail, from court, from the
gallows; the acquired conscience helps us to preserve the little amenities of daily
life. "Oh, God! would you take him from me?—
would you murder him?"
"His father's name?—and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. Celestial Uncles! Spurlock chuckled, and a bit of chestnut, going
down the wrong way, set him to coughing violently. And so sudden and well-directed was the assault, that he
completely overthrew his gigantic antagonist.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 01-07-2024 18:55:27