The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. ’ Melusine glared. So was I, in fact. Ramage. 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. Yet the thing hidden within her called and called. James's built for offices of the meanest description. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent.
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