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"In the first place, she had no knowledge of her birth; and, consequently, no false pride to get rid of. He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. Mrs. She made noises between weeping and laughter as she went. They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. He had barely settled at his desk in his library, when he was disturbed by two morning callers. 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. “Of course!” he said. “For me there is no second turn.
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