‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. The boy was all conscience, and he suffered through this conscience to such lengths that the law would be impotent to add anything. I thought one had only to take it by the throat. “Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. I think not, Annabel. "I feel guilty, going away and leaving that ignorant child; but our days have been so planned that we dare not change the schedule. 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.
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