“You cannot say that you did not expect me,” he answered. 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 stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. “Let me introduce my friend to you,” Courtlaw said. \"Yes, I'd love to go. Forgive me. A sense of impending disaster was upon him.
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