She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. She flared her upper lip, baring her canines which had extended by half an inch. She could not see any relief from this anxiety except repayment, and repayment seemed impossible. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. Her thought spoke aloud. ” “Then don’t talk to me now. 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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