"You will make me the happiest of mankind," cried the woollen-draper, falling on his knees, and seizing her hand, which he devoured with kisses. “You can date whomever you wish. "I will bear the body. "If you get out o' that cage, I'll forgive you. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. “Of course I will,” he answered. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. 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. “But—your people!” she gasped. But his daughter might well have a claim.
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