In the narrow streets the progress of the journey was made sensible to those within by the near fronts of the houses gliding past slowly and shakily, with a great rattle and jingling of glass, as if about to collapse behind the cab; and the infirm horse, with the harness hung over his sharp backbone flapping very loose about his thighs, appeared to be dancing mincingly on his toes with infinite patience.
Later on, in the wider space of Whitehall, all visual evidences of motion became imperceptible.

The rattle and jingle of glass went on indefinitely in front of the long Treasury building--and time itself seemed to stand still.
At last Winnie observed: "This isn't a very good horse." Her eyes gleamed in the shadow of the cab straight ahead, immovable.

On the box, Stevie shut his vacant mouth first, in order to ejaculate earnestly: "Don't." The driver, holding high the reins twisted around the hook, took no notice.

Perhaps he had not heard.

Stevie's breast heaved.
"Don't whip." The man turned slowly his bloated and sodden face of many colours bristling with white hairs.