"Fear!" echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,—"fear! Repeat that word again, and nothing shall save you. 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. " "Don't scold him, father," interposed Thames; "he's been frightened enough already. Lucy inhaled deeply. It was shameful, but again, her mother had prepared her for it. But this modern miasma—” Mr. Firmly built, as it was, the bridge creaked in such a manner with their contending efforts, that Abraham durst not venture beyond the door, where he stood, holding the light, a horrified spectator of the scene. Her parents totally look the other way. “I have stood it for a month, Anna,” he exclaimed.
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