‘I knowed he were a wrong ’un, but that. Better get a dress. 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. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. I'll remember that.
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