He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face. Ann Veronica had no answer for a moment. A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. As the woollendraper's back was towards him, he did not perceive him, but continued his passionate addresses. ‘Don’t dare address me by such a title. Sheppard, and regarding her with an insolent and threatening glance. The characters of the youthful occupants of the room might be detected in every article it contained. You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. Then, if you are bad to me, I can more easily blow off your head. But I give you this warning, and let it sink in. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. But indeed that is not at all a good description of her attitude.
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