Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. ’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. He was entranced as she walked towards him. Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. 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. He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause.
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