“Do you know that boy very well, Shar?” Cathy Beck yelled in the general direction of the lavatory. The man’s as obstinate as a mule. 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. In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. The life of a young girl is set about with prowling pitfalls. I’m in this apartment and looking for work because—Well, what else can I do, when my father practically locks me up?” “I know,” said Mr.
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