Katy had sneered at her for a moment, their eyes locking. 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. ” “Out with it, then,” he cried, almost roughly. Would there be enough in the young man's envelope to pay the doctor and the hotel bill—and in the event of his death, enough to ship the body home? So all things pointed to the happy circumstance of setting this young fool upon his feet again, of seeing him hence upon his journey. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. Suppose—suppose a girl did want to start in life, start in life for herself—” She looked him frankly in the eyes.
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