He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. “Oh! He’s wonderful! Isobella, you are truly blessed!” She said as she held the baby. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. It may not be just, it may not be fair, but things are so. 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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