Then his beard was of a reddish hue, and his complexion warm and sanguine. “Been sitting on the doorstep almost for two hours. 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. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. ‘I’ll handle her better alone. Will you be a faithful and honest wife? Will you do your duty by him, and forget all your past follies? Unless, Annabel, you can——” “Oh, I will pledge you my word,” Annabel cried passionately, “my solemn word. It must be my fault that you have not learnt that your husband is the man to come to—at such a time as this. ’ ‘Aye, but she don’t reckon to militiamen.
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