Wood. He was as hard as a rock. 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. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. Holcroft, we may have been mistaken. "No, I won't hear you, murderer," rejoined Wood. She prevaricated. Good night!" "Well, if you won't be persuaded, and must have a boat, Owen," observed the landlord, "there's a waterman asleep on that bench will help you to as tidy a craft as any on the Thames. Far too old to ask you on your first date.
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