The cage has a strong door, with an iron grating at the top, and further secured by a stout bolt and padlock. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. Her mind left her. “You cannot say that you did not expect me,” he answered. . .
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