Whisky kills him suddenly; it does not sap him gradually. 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. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man.
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