She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. F. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. 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. As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. ” “I will think of it,” she repeated. . ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour.
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