All make the same answer—'d—n you, keep it. Her husband quickly joined the fray, making her giggle and laugh. 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. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. I didn’t understand before that letter. The tapstress was full of curiosity; but she appeared more easy than the others.
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