“You did not tell me that you were going out, or I would have offered my escort. The cage at Willesden was, and is—for it is still standing—a small round building about eight feet high, with a pointed tiled roof, to which a number of boards, inscribed with the names of the parish officers, and charged with a multitude of admonitory notices to vagrants and other disorderly persons, are attached. The girl suppressed a chuckle that would have been inexplicable. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. The young man had knocked over the siphon. Show him no quarter, Poll. ” “Much better,” she agreed. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response.
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