The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. 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. Cathy chimed. ’ Then she came closer and put her hand on his chest so that it rested on the braid that decorated his scarlet coat. I presume that you have been living alone?” She sighed gently. “Why not?” he exclaimed.
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