. ’ Fresh suspicion kindled in his breast. \" She fibbed. It’s Providence. It was not a hopeful looking group. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. ToC In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary's Hole.
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