‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. " And he proceeded to unfold his scheme to the woollen-draper. " "Silly love stories?" "No; love wasn't the theme. Clotilde flew into a rage, crying, “How dare you lay claim to my children! I am their mother! This is a Godless house!” She accused. The spinsters had purchased one grass-linen tablecloth; the girl and the young man had purchased nothing. Which is also puzzling. Jack dropped the knife, and walked sullenly aside. Jack had well-nigh fallen too. 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 regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day.
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