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. ” “You’re lucky to live in an age when you can do so. Walpole, and then to Newgate. It began as a joke. ‘Perhaps she don’t understand English,’ suggested Roding. " "Keep in your own room, at all events," rejoined Kneebone. Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips. I’ve never found them hostile. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly.
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