‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. We are both graduates of Yale. 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. Sheppard, if you please, Ma'am," interrupted the lad; "I allow nobody to call me Jack. I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me.
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