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. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’ ‘Yes, yes. ’ He reddened a little, and shuffled his feet. We could have secured you when you left the Mint. “I think—we all think that she is wonderful. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead.
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