I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. Amongst them was a revolver. 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. With this air in our blood, this sunlight soaking us. Her eyes seemed to be looking backwards. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. “None, I thank you,” he answered. "I mean to have no one but yourself in it. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes. " "She is a matchless creature!" exclaimed the young man.
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