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‘Do not beg my pardon. "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. A constant attendant at court, he had the mortification to see every one promoted but himself, and thus bewails his ill-luck. ” “Then perhaps,” she answered, with a new coldness in her tone, “perhaps I really do not care. ” He dabbed with his paper-weight again, and spoke in an entirely indifferent tone. Parbleu, but must she do this all through the house? Evidently she must, for not only could she not properly see the paintings and portraits that hung on the walls, but she was in imminent danger of bumping into the sheet-shrouded furniture. One comes at last to the step from dreams to reality. Come down, I say, instantly, or I'll make you. ” “Isn’t that a little extreme?” “I am an extreme person at times. They will guess that I am English. If there’s any one here whom you have not met I will make you acquainted with them after dinner. If you noticed, our house is fairly close to the road. Her efforts were vain. 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. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think.
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