Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. 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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