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. “Well,” he said, argumentatively, “it IS. Hawk and Buzzard. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. She would never forget the agony of that first meal in the great dining room. To her chagrin, he ignored her, and turned a venomous eye on his betrothed.
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