"Wet your whistle before you start, Jack," said Kneebone, pouring out a glass of
ale. Anna sat quite still for a moment, and
then the colour suddenly returned to her cheeks. He had promised her some
books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. I shouldn't care to express an opinion. He had nothing more to say either to her
or to Spurlock. Nothing seemed to be amiss. ”
For a time she sat on a rail before leaving the road for the downland turf. 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.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTUuMTgyLjEzNiAtIDA4LTA3LTIwMjQgMjM6Mjk6MzUgLSAxNTcyOTM1ODkx
This video was uploaded to golfrealestateonline.com on 07-07-2024 16:39:58