I’ve got imagination. Anna followed her finger, and looked back into her sister’s face. Take your case, for instance. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs. 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. “I can only repeat what I said before,” she declared. "Come to buy off Jack Sheppard, I suppose," replied the fellow.
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