Hoddy, what made you do it? Whatever made you do it?" "God knows! Something said to me: Take it! Take it! And … I took it. ‘Merci, dieu. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. Racing, he reached it perhaps a moment or two later. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. 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.
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