” Anna laughed, gave in and with deft fingers created order out of chaos. His hands were exploring her once again in the car. 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. Great stone staircases leading no one knew whither, and long gloomy passages, impressed the occasional visitor with the idea that he was traversing a building of vast extent; and, though this was not the case in reality, the deception was so cleverly contrived that it seldom failed of producing the intended effect. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. One puts gloves on one’s greedy fingers.
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