But for him she might have been alive and happy. My friend the doctor suspected it, and so do I. She had to resist an impulse of sheer terror, to run out after them and give in. But she veiled her feelings. 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. There's not his peer among the peerage. He said that for him beauty justified life, that he could not imagine a good action that was not a beautiful one nor any beautiful thing that could be altogether bad. I will be as silent as the grave. But it means no end of a row.
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