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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. “You poor little girl!” he cried. No one could take the place for anything but what it was, and even Gosse hesitated in the doorway. ” She laughed. Journeying blindly half way across the world, this man had found his quarry.
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