Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt.
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