” “Rum,” said Ann Veronica. The baby boy was delivered in a sea of black blood, born dead and blue, and strangled by plague. “Go on,” he said. “Please don’t be sad. 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. Such was the simple code that displayed itself in all his thoughts.
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