Treading with noiseless step over the soft mould, they soon reached the building. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. 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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