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 had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way. ” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided.
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