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. She distinctly shivered as he forced her to look at him. "What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. “You see,” he said, “from my point of view you’re grown up— you’re as old as all the goddesses and the contemporary of any man alive. “And then they are swollen up and inflamed and drunken with matter. She got pregnant.
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