" "Jonathan Wild was my husband's bitterest enemy," said Mrs. 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. Wood at Dollis Hill, was assaulted and half-killed by a party of ruffians, headed, he swore, by Mr. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. But only inside, you understand, that one cannot see it. The delay was only momentary.
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