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. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. He and his friends (he had at least two per class, even in Trigonometry) would make their exits as quickly as possible.
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