CHAPTER VIII. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. “Mr. 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. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. CHAPTER II. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners.
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