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. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. She was weeping now.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 27-09-2024 00:36:32