“How’s the star?” John’s father asked. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. 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. It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up. “Now replace the stone, my child. ‘You are mad, if you think he will give you a sou. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. You need give yourself no more concern about Kneebone.
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