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. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. There'll be a fall of above twelve foot o' water, and think o' that on a night as 'ud blow a whole fleet to the devil. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. A dozen shynesses and intellectual barriers were being outflanked or broken down in her mind. Sheppard, bitterly. " "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey. She was trembling a little. The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother.
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