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‘So it would appear. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn
jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair
smoking clove cigarettes. "It is", seplied Winifred; "have you brought any tidings of Thames Darrell!"
"Troth have I!" replied Terence: "but, bless your angilic face, how did you
contrive to guess that?"
"Is he well?—is he safe?—is he coming back," cried the little girl, disregarding
the question. There is something in prayer; not that there may be any noticeable result, any
definite answer; but no human being can offer an honest prayer to God without
gaining immeasurably in courage, in fortitude, in resignation, and that alone is
worth the effort. 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. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of
Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 04-07-2024 07:14:25