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. ’ A tiny giggle escaped her, and she lowered the pistol a trifle. She hadn't measured up; she had been stupid; she hadn't known how to make love. “What’s going on with you?” John asked inquisitively, looking down at her abdomen. ’ He saw that Mrs Sindlesham, for all her vaunted freedom of speech, was honestly shocked by this revelation. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers.
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