She had not nursed Leonardo for weeks for nothing. 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. "It is not too late to repair the wrong I have done my nephew," cried Trenchard. “The conventions do not matter one little bit. In one of these seats, at the end of the aisle farthest removed from the chancel, the widow took her place, and addressed herself fervently to her devotions. I did not lay any traps for her. “You have changed somehow—and you certainly are less friendly. Goopes said she believed in nothing else, and with that she glanced at Ann Veronica, rose a little abruptly, and directed Goopes and the shy young man in the handing of refreshments.
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