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 think you love this other man! No doubt you do love him. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. He misstated her age and address; but you can’t get home on him for a thing like that.
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