She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. 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. After quarter of an hour, she followed. Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume. So, let's think no more about it. "That's for myself," rejoined Mrs.
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