’ Releasing her, he turned and walked swiftly towards the door. Directly he saw Anna he accosted her. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. 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. To—to find myself. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out.
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