I do not say guest because that suggests friendship; and I am no friend of this Wastrel. The slow stars circled on to the moment of their meeting. “I was sick of the make-believe. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. Apparently, Jonathan perceived he was an object of scrutiny; for, hastily dismissing his attendant, he walked towards the knight. Spurlock knew exactly what he was doing, however: speculative mischief, to see how she would act. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. 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.
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