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. A narrow entry, formed by two low walls, communicated with the main thoroughfare; and in this passage, under the cover of a penthouse, stood Wood, with his little burthen, to whom we shall now return. Wood; but they never come now. Sir John was not used to such glances, and he liked them. "Oh! they are—are they?" muttered Jack, triumphantly; "that'll do. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. New customs have prevailed over the old. None presented themselves to save him from that return. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance.
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