She would end alone. 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. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. Its very calmness was frightful. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster.
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