She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. “Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper. The money will last longer, and—it won’t bother you. What had she to do with such as these? She had hard work to keep a smiling face, as Mrs. It did so well that they sold it in the nineties. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all. 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. I'm not particular what or where. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound.
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