Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. 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. ” “Delusion!” he muttered, glaring at her. “There is something to be said for the lady-like theory after all,” she admitted. . It was not that the servants could not, they simply preferred to. “Well, you’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room, but did I show you the basement?” He asked. Whatever she does is minimized. And lunged once more. ” Tears flowed down her face. The pearls were really yours?" "They were left to me by my mother.
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