” Sir John breathed a long deep sigh. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. Only last night she saw me, and there was horror in her eyes. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER.
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