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. “Ann Veronica is looking very well, don’t you think?” he said, a little awkwardly. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window.
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