His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. “You needn’t say a word more,” Mr. 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. As if we didn’t know! The practical trouble is our ages.
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