“My word holds,” she said. It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up. ’ ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled. 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. By the time she was done, the bodies in the bathtub were gathering flies. The likeness was ridiculous. I am having them to my own soirée on Monday.
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