"Who, then?" demanded Jack. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. This won’t do. ” She said. There’s nothing a girl can do that isn’t sweated to the bone. "Why did I want it under my pillow?" he asked. Kneebone. ” “Not quite so easily as it explains an insect alighting on colored paper. ” “What else,” Lady Lescelles murmured, “are men for?” Anna laughed. 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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