Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. She could tell that he probably wanted to kiss her, but she did not act upon the opportunity. “Get you a cold one?” “No thanks. I think that I am a little disappointed in you. I went off to round up his wife. Kneebone and his Friends. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. 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.
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