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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 had no wish to go foraging in Spurlock's trunk. It had seemed to her that life might be very good indeed with his kindliness and sacrifice about her. And yet he knew clearly and definitely what he purposed to do, what the future would be. I have never seen a lagoon.
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