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. Ramage’s bitterness passed as abruptly as his aggression. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. Tell her, that more than once, when about to commit some desperate offence, I have been restrained by her gentle image. It is one of God’s laws that a woman may defend her honour, even with the shedding of blood. “That’s not working so well for you, is it?” She looked at him sheepishly, bringing a Kleenex out of her pocket to wipe away the excess. "Here's the door. When I was younger, I was very sick with a deadly flu.
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