I see right into Bermondsey and Rotherhithe and all those places and think out the lives of the people as they are being lived.

Then I look through those wonderful windows there--how they glitter in the sunshine, don't they!--and I think I hear the men speak whom they have sent to plead their cause.

Some Demosthenes from Tower Hill exhausts himself with phrase-making, shouts himself into a perspiration, drawing lurid, pictures of hideous and apparent wrongs, and a hundred or so well-dressed legislators whisper behind the palms of their hands, make their plans for the evening and trot into their appointed lobbies like sheep when the division bell rings.

It is the most tragical epitome of inadequacy the world has ever known." "Have you Democrats any fresh inspiration, then ?" he asked.
"Of course we have," she rapped out sharply.

"It isn't like you to ask such a question.