‘You are not the only one to seek them out,’ he said. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. 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. You know all this stuff is insured. She tipped his mouth towards her own and kissed him. I’ll wait my whole life!” He cried.
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