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'That's my paper, it seemed to say, 'by all the rights of man; and that low-class fellow sellin' it, takin' away my profits! "I sells this 'ere Westminister. I reads it on Sundays it's a gentleman's paper, 'igh-class paper notwithstandin' of its politics.
Lady Glengower, too, was in heaven, remembering that she had forgotten all her servants in her will. He who had served them was still alive, and his first thought, when he had secured his post on the "Westminister," was to save enough to rescue them from a dishonourable confinement. It had taken him six months.
An' curious enough that's the very identical remark my late 'usband was ser fond o' makin'. I remember 'is sayin' it to me the very night before 'e was knocked down by a bus. Knocked down in Westminister 'e was, and runned over the body by both 'ind wheels. 'E never got over it not as you might say reely got over it. If ever 'e ate cheese after that it always give 'im a pain in 'is stomick."
She stood, with one paw delicately held up above the topmost step. 'I don't know this man, she seemed to say, 'and I don't like his looks. Hughs grinned. "I never hurt a dumb animal," he said; "come on, tykie!" Stimulated by a word she had never thought to hear, Miranda descended rapidly. 'He meant that for impudence, thought Hilary as he walked away. "Westminister, sir? Oh dear!"
They stopped beneath the swinging sign of an inn, with Westminister towers blue and magical before them, to ask for Mistress Atherton's house, and were directed a little further along and nearer to the water's edge.
That the government of Ireland by what he called a Protestant Parliament sitting at Westminister, meaning the Parliament of the United Kingdom, had failed, he not merely admitted, but loudly proclaimed. It had failed "more signally, and more disgracefully," than any other system, because Gladstone admitted that Fenian outrages precipitated legislative reforms.
A pale profile, broken by a line of black moustache, was all "Westminister" could see of that impassive face, whose eyes, fixed on the magistrate, alone betrayed the fires within. The violent trembling of the seamstress roused in Joshua Creed a certain irritation, and seeing the baby open his black eyes, he nudged her, whispering: "Ye've woke the baby!"
That same afternoon in High Street, Kensington, "Westminister," with his coat-collar raised against the inclement wind, his old hat spotted with rain, was drawing at a clay pipe and fixing his iron-rimmed gaze on those who passed him by.
If the Westminister and Augsburg Confessions were true yesterday, why should they not be also true to-day? If the 39 Articles were the rule of Faith for the Anglican Church in the past, why should they be to-day but "definitions of theological opinions of the time of the Reformation," as Anglican Bishop Farthing, of Montreal, recently stated.
But presently she saw a little boy and girl asleep on the doorstep of a mansion, with their cheeks pressed close together and their arms round each other, and again she hurried on. In the course of that long wandering she passed the building which "Westminister" was so anxious to avoid. In its gateway an old couple were just about to separate, one to the men's, the other to the women's quarters.
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