After all, that was life. 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 shall borrow it and apply it to you, Hilary. “But Sebastian! I need them!” He smiled, not a smile of comfort, but a smile of terrible menace. After all, this could never be the black sheep. This I know, for the Valades have taught me so, and the nuns also. You know what's what. "Better than your company, Saint Giles," replied Sheppard; "so, shut the door, and make yourself scarce.
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