Sheppard towards an appalling object in one corner. The Night-Cellar XVIII. " The manager extended his hands at large, as if to deny any responsibility in the affair. “I am so very, very sorry. ” Mr. 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.
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