Not many years ago, two men, employed on this duty, quarrelled during the night, and in the morning their bodies were found stretched upon the pavement of the yard beneath. The performance over, he relaxed and closed his eyes. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. 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. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so.
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