At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. You would not have believed me, I know well. “Why on earth did you TELL me?” he cried. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. " The little urchin set off, and presently returned with the sexton. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. Anna left the room on tiptoe. 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.
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