” “He cares so much for you. ” He sat like a man turned to stone. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. Even to my own brother—if I had one—I could not tell everything, and you, although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren’t you?” “No, no!” he protested. By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. “He fell over at my feet,” she continued. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. 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.
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