I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. Wood obeyed. 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. You are to remain here until you are well. “Dear friend,” she said, “this is a matter which you must leave to me to do as I think best. This is a joke of yours. “I don’t know, John. " "And what—what was your answer?" demanded the widow, eagerly.
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