But I should certainly want to be rid of Mr. Jesus! They just wouldn’t let up about you after you played the violin for them. . 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. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail.
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