William Kneebone, Of me, Sir, you shall never be bone. If he hasn't a job for you, he'll know someone who has. 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. ’ She shook her head.
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