Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. Ah, if I had written that!" "Don't you want to live?" "I don't know; I really don't know. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips.
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