The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. “Perhaps. ” Lucy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "There'll be a louder echo here presently," thought Jonathan. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. Some of them are now buried at the bottom of the Thames. “Everybody seems to have it now. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. CHAPTER II.
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