But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. 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. And the bedchamber, for which Melusine instantly headed, was almost bright. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. You have misunderstood.
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