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Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to regard it. There he stands. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. ’ ‘And was not she put out?’ demanded Miss Froxfield with a tinkling laugh. He sat down. "Miss Enschede—such an odd name!—are you French?" "Oh, no. Think how free that leaves me to follow things up! I must take you everywhere. 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. Father— dead. Some Chinaman might take it into his head to shout: "Death to the foreign devils!" And out of that wall yonder would boil battle and murder and sudden death. And how much I owe you, too, dearest Winifred, for your kindness and attention.
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