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. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. "May come!—it will come!—it shall come!" cried the carpenter, shaking his hand menacingly at him. Enough's as good as a feast of the dainties you provide. ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood. "They say her son's taken at last, and is to be hanged. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. .
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