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. Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down. “Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones. “John,” she declared, “I must eat or die.
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