"What's the matter, father!" continued the new-comer, addressing Wood. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. 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. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully. I am safe while I am there, for I have had bolts fitted everywhere, and a pane of glass in the front door. Smith will tell you I'm misinformed, also, on that point. "Ah! but," said I, "there's a great deal in being hanged. He mumbled an apology and then stopped short.
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