He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners. 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. “Lady Ferringhall, sir. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. ‘Very well,’ he said, lowering his own weapon. “Am I becoming reasonable or am I being tamed? “I’m simply discovering that life is many-sided and complex and puzzling. It doesn't look bad, does it?" "Mercy, no! That wasn't the thought. Considering how little he lets her have.
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