"You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. Her aunt was a long time before she answered. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. . I don’t want any laws or freedoms to protect me from a man like Mr. ” “I am afraid,” she said, preceding him down the narrow stairs, “that I am going to be too busy to have much time for gadding about. Certain reserves went down on both sides. 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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