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. "Aw Come. Ireton, was appointed to the office, stood with a hammer in one hand, and a punch in the other, near the great stone block, ready to fulfil his duty. ” “So far,” she continued, eyeing hungrily the last morsel of roll which lay upon her plate, “my only chance of occupation has lain with a photographer who engaged me on the spot and insulted me in half an hour. " There was a momentary and terrible silence, broken only by a few feeble groans. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. ” Pause. It really isn’t so easy to go as it seems. “How do you know?” “Well, it isn’t exactly a depressing state, is it?” “YOU don’t know. Playing became a way of escape.
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