" "There's some one in the garden at this moment," cried Jack; "I saw a face at the window. Caution forced her to speak calmly. . ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. Kneebone, Mrs. Small blame to her. An early bird clarinetist burst through in a long black skirt, swishing like a bell. Come and help me pack. Indeed I must. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. 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. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces.
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