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‘Help yourself, Hilary. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up. No, let us dine here, and then go and have our coffee on the boulevards. 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.
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