\" \"Oh, that is pretty. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. The two girls put on shoes and started walking towards the north side of town. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. She was furiously angry. 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. “Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door.
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