“Both!” said Ann Veronica. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. 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. Pitt, the governor, a tall pompous personage, who, in his turn, ushered in four other individuals. Take a room!” “I say!” said Constance. Of this man Kneebone resolved to go in pursuit; and leaving Jack in charge of the constable, he proceeded to the small inn,—which bore then, as it bears now, the name of the Six Bells,—where, summoning the hostler, his steed was instantly brought him, and, springing on its back, he rode away at full speed.
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