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It was ended. Part 4 At eight that evening Miss Stanley tapped at Ann Veronica’s bedroom door. Then she called a hansom and drove home. 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. But he would die if he continued in this course. ‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More. Part 2 They received the guests in their pretty little hall with genuine effusion.
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