She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. And in the Avenue she had an encounter with Ramage. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. “Do I understand you then to refuse my offer?” he asked Anna. "Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. 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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