The man is a stranger to me. 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 might have given me a chance, anyway. ‘What a catalogue. She stepped backwards. Her desires were not for riches. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. " "A capital caricature that," remarked Thornhill, laughing. Built and paved with stone, without beds, or any other sort of protection from the cold, this dreadful hole, accounted the most dark and dismal in the prison, was made the receptacle of such miserable wretches as could not pay the customary fees.
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