"Who, then?" demanded Jack. 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. I suppose you have come to see your granddaughter. The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their foreheads in a military salute to mock her. A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it.
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