"I ought to tell you that Mr. He felt he was human wisdom prudentially interpolated. ‘Is that why you allowed me in, ma’am?’ A dimple appeared in the faded cheek. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. 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.
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