Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. "Try!" Enraged at the assurance of his mistress, the woollen-draper endeavoured to carry his threat into execution, but all his efforts to remove her were unavailing. “My dear Miss Pellissier,” he said impressively, “this is an unexpected pleasure. “I have given her two days’ holiday,” Anna answered. "And when I further tell you," continued Jack, "that, after yourself and my mother, I am the next heir to the estates of my grandfather, Sir Montacute Trenchard, you will perhaps own that my caution is sufficiently disinterested. “I suppose I should let go if I had.
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