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. " "Suffer me to proceed," replied the stranger. " "So far you are correct," observed Trenchard; "still, this is no secret. \"Do you mind if I sit with you?\" He asked as he followed her. ‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. "Your wife?" "His lawful wife," said Ruth, with fine dignity. “Yes, I know. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go.
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