’ ‘Oh, have you?’ grunted Gerald, surprising in himself a surge of some odd emotion at these words. It filled her with indefinable fear. 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. No police officers or lurking storms were anywhere in sight. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. He contrasted with Russell, whose intellectual methods were, so to speak, sceptically dogmatic.
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