’ Gerald suppressed a grin. “We’re going to be sensible. If he keeps his word, I'll keep mine. 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. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. I speak frankly, because you also know that no possible extremity would induce me to accept help from any living person. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. "I mustn't tell you what Thames means to do for you if ever he gains his rights," continued Winifred; "but I may tell you what my father means to do. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava.
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