For a moment or two Gerald stood in the total silence of amazement, his pistol up and pointing, aware that Hilary was likewise stunned, standing with halfdrawn sword. She had seen for herself right up in the bedroom window with her binoculars when Joanie was gone shopping one night, right with her own eyes. In the midst of this light stood a young woman. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. I quickly ingratiated myself to Gianfrancesco, playing on his insecurities, drawing from his need for more and more power. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. 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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