“Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green,—the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement,—passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. “Yes. ’ ‘A pretty tale. " "So far you are correct," observed Trenchard; "still, this is no secret.
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