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. It was now a quarter past twelve. "If things had gone smoothly," he thought, "I should have cursed the fellow's stupidity. “Lucy, this isn’t funny anymore. ’ He only laughed. He never finished his sentence.
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