The pistol fell to the floor. He never said hello, as if it had become a personal taboo for him. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. "I haven't a word to say, Ah Cum, not a word. 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. Ennison’s manner was certainly not one of a willing host.
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