Chapter Eleven Melusine’s limbs nearly gave way beneath her. At length, however, the prisoner was got out, when such was the rush of the multitude that several persons were trampled down, and received severe injuries. 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. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. “Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir John,” he said, holding out a Daily Telegraph. “These are the playgrounds of life. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. ’ Melusine turned, an irrepressible giggle escaping her lips as she thought of the Mother Abbess in the convent at Blaye.
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