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. He jumped back, wrenching the sword away. After he had eaten dinner with Ruth, he had gone to McClintock's; and he had heard music such as he had heard only in the great concert halls. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. He did not even reply to her for several minutes. They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon. Lucy followed. “What?” He replied.
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