***** Ruth and the doctor returned to the hotel at four. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. They walked in silence. 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. On the walls were noticeboards bearing clusters of newspaper slips, three or four big posters of monster meetings, one of which Ann Veronica had attended with Miss Miniver, and a series of announcements in purple copying-ink, and in one corner was a pile of banners. I'm a bit daffy about music. He's as generous as he's frolicsome.
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