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studio. I'll go.' About twenty minutes after twoon this eventful daythe vast and gloomy shed of Waterloo laylike the temple of a dead religionsilent and deserted. Here and there at one of the platformsa train lay becalmed; here and there a wandering footfall echoed; the cab-horses outside stamped with startling reverberations on the stones; or from the neighbouring wilderness of railway an engine snorted forth a whistle. The main-line departure platform slumbered like the rest; the booking-hutches closed; the backs of Mr Haggard's novels with which upon a the anti shoe mbtweekday the bookstall shines emblazoneddiscreetly hidden behind dingy shutters; the rare officialsundisguisedly somnambulant; and the customary loitererseven to the middle-aged woman with the ulster and the handbagfled to more congenial scenes. As in the inmost dells of some small tropic island the throbbing of the ocean lingersso here a faint pervading hum and trepidation told in every corner of surrounding London. At the hour already namedpersons acquainted with John Dicksonof Ballaratand Ezra Thomasof the United States of Americawould have been cheered to behold them enter through the booking-office. 'What names are we to tayilai: ugg boots clearance On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Published ccaaocsh |
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