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. Her brother Roddy, who was in the motor line, came to expostulate; her sister Alice wrote. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. “You must come home to him at once,” said Miss Stanley. She gave up as he finished, spending himself in her mouth. Their houses became a refuge of ill repute, the source of rumor and intrigue in the highest echelons of society. With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna.
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