‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. ” Lucy retorted, “Well, I’m not going to make the yearbook anytime soon dressed like this, am I. So this was what it was all about. What you would look upon as immorality is here merely an established custom, three thousand years older than Christianity, accepted with no more ado than that which would accompany you should you become a clerk in a shop. They are not your flowers. Spurlock advanced, the censer swung high. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. 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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