He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. “But that’s not all. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. I'll remember that. Of course I knew all about him years ago, and he is exactly like everybody’s description of him. ‘But I find you excessively rude, Gérard. A dissipated, loose-living man. 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. "Tush!" exclaimed Sir Rowland, angrily.
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