That would not help her. What his head conceived his hand executed. “I am afraid,” he said gravely, “that your sister has been a little indiscreet. “They’d better not,” said Hetty. 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. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. This is where my character, Lucia, is coming from. He was beautiful despite the odd angle. "Coward!" cried Kneebone. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks.
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