Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. An old man and a young girl, the one as stubbornly offensive as the other. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. "I am. ” She slipped it on her finger, and added, in a voice she tried to make matter-of-fact: “It was given to me last week. 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. Here, turnkey. " So saying, he threw himself into a chair. " "For every hurt she has, I shall have two.
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