She was suddenly grave. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. 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. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. ” She changed the subject abruptly.
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