Anna hailed a bus. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. “Very well,” said Ann Veronica, with an air of concluding the discussion. 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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