In the recess beside the fireplace were some open bookshelves. "I will," answered the prisoner. Annabel watched her with wide-open, terrified eyes. "You two … both of you! But for you I couldn't have done it. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. I'm his lieutenant,—Lieutenant Blueskin. 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. That really settles about that. She could feel her face turning beet red.
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