Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both. But a human being who is young and clean, as you are, is apt to ennoble—or explain away. The Matriarchate! The Lords of Creation just ran about and did what they were told. You were wide the mark, physically; otherwise you had him pat. 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.
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