She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron. You tell me he didn't like the stuff. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap. 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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