“Certainly. 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. \" His tone was weak and conciliatory. " "Curse your reward!" exclaimed Kneebone, angrily. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer.
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