The G. She thought Alice a bit of a sneak, an opinion her brothers shared, and Gwen rather a snatch at meals. “I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said. You are—horrible. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. 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. Gosse had hidden himself successfully then. His friendship seemed a thing worth having. It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue, but feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accomplish. CHAPTER IV.
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