You love Ennison. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. 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. During this period Sir Montacute has been gathered to his fathers. Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. This one too she read. ” “Your knowledge of our ways,” he murmured “is profound. Ann Veronica surveyed his sloping back for a moment, and then drew her microscope toward her. It was the bitterest moment of her life. ” Capes suddenly abandoned his attitude of meditative restraint.
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