” “I borrowed it,” said Ann Veronica in a casual tone, with white despair in her heart. 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. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. Yet through these talks, these meetings and conferences, these movements and efforts, Ann Veronica, for all that she went with her friend, and at times applauded with her enthusiastically, yet went nevertheless with eyes that grew more and more puzzled, and fine eyebrows more and more disposed to knit. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. ’ ‘I am afraid that there is,’ Gerald told her evenly. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease.
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