They showered together. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. In an instant the expectant calm of Westminster was ended, and the very Speaker in the chair blenched at the sound of the policemen’s whistles. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. Now I do. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. " "Mother!" cried Jack, in a broken voice.
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