For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period. ” “Fame!” “Isn’t it? ‘I’ve not seen your play, Mr. "She's glorious!" He knew that he must hoodwink this keeneyed Scot, even as he must hoodwink everybody: publicly, the devoted husband; privately, the celibate. It could not go on much longer, her luck. Sensitive, aren’t they?” She chuckled. Come back—you must come back. 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.
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