For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. Contrasted with the confused movement and presences of a Fabian meeting, or the inexplicable enthusiasm behind the suffrage demand, with the speeches that were partly egotistical displays, partly artful manoeuvres, and partly incoherent cries for unsoundly formulated ends, compared with the comings and goings of audiences and supporters that were like the eddy-driven drift of paper in the street, this long, quiet, methodical chamber shone like a star seen through clouds. His grief was so audible, that it attracted the notice of some of the bystanders, and Thames was obliged to beg him to control it. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming.
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