"I'll admit that. Stir a foot, and I strike. . “As she asked!” “It is already too late. “Just do it. Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. She passed down the stairs and into the street. 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. He was there concealed, waiting her return. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. “I confess it. " But seeing that no notice was taken of the retort, he drew a little aside, and folded his arms, muttering, "This whim will soon be over.
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