She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. 82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. It was explosive and gratifying. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. Mr. 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. “John, that is what you say now. You can tell me the rest another time. The whole affair interested him deeply. "Why? Because I love her! Because I loved her at the start, but was too big a fool to know it!" His own astonishment was quite equal to McClintock's.
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