“And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. You're in a more serious scrape than you imagine. 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. There he was, standing with a group of men who she presumed to be the other richest men in the world. .
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