It was Annabel who spoke. Mr. 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. On the stranger's appearance, she was seated near the window busily occupied with her needle. E. “And I have dragged you all over here for nothing,” she murmured. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight.
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