From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful. 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. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. ‘Alors, you make a game with me, I see that.
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