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His feet would have the firm texture of his hands. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. " So saying, he unlocked the door and strode out of the room. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. My heart misgives 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. "If I could only make you realize what you have done," he said, lamely. "An oath weighs little with me, compared with your safety. She had thought of the lawyer who conducted the Remenham business, but she knew not where to find him.
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