The simile started a laugh in his throat. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. “Enter Sir John, very honest, very much in love with me. Go away now, there’s a good lad. “I don’t know, John. She knew the truth of it all right. He stopped abruptly before the apparently incurious Chinaman. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. ‘The poor girl was thrust into a convent to become a nun. 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.
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