And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. She stared. CHAPTER XXVIII. The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens. Cathy chimed. "If I get free, I'll have a bout with you at all weapons. 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. She studied the face and tried to visualize the body, clothed in the dress which had created the spinsters' astonishment. Have we not received Lady Bicknacre just this morning? Not to mention the Comtesse de St Erme. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below.
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