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. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed. “Yes, but I act older than I look. The five men students were a mixed company. “Showtime!” Martin cried. ” She assented gently.
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