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. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. “Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter. “Thanks, I’m not very fond of coffee,” Anna answered, “and I hate music.
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