” Suppose she were to add, “I am going away!” “I’m glad to hear you say it,” said Mr. 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. ‘He had run away with a Frenchwoman, you see, but Everett Charvill—I refer to the general—took care to conceal the matter. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. Mike is a simple guy, but he’ll see through any act of yours. Almost the last female to bear the name, too,’ muttered the old lady. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin.
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