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. Lucy could see the anger in her silhouette, the punishments and the grounding being formulated for the now dead daughter. But that bridge was more remarkable than any the metropolis now possesses.
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