They don’t count, and I don’t care. 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. “I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded. Somewhere, where we can talk without interruption.
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