He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. “Did you tell him?” Capes smiled faintly. 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. Perhaps you'll give me in return some token, by which I may remind you of this occurrence, in case we meet again.
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