William Kneebone was a woollen-draper of "credit and renown," whose place of business was held at the sign of the Angel (for, in those days, every shop had its sign), opposite Saint Clement's church in the Strand. Before his departure, he gave his assistant a glove. “Rubbish!” he answered. “TROUSERS!” she whispered. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. I am not come here to play the part of your father-confessor. “And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr. They were both dressed in every respect alike. She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them. This she put into the trunk. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly.
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