” “It might become one,” he answered. 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. "These writer chaps are queer birds. Entering the Red Room, he crept through the hole in the wall, descended the chimney, and arrived once more in his old place of captivity. And now she comprehended that the man (she had never known him by any name) knew she had surprised the look and had not resented it.
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