But it is not your name. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. The great world outside! She stood motionless beside the trunk, deep in speculation; and thus the doctor found her. It was then for the first time she remembered that she had said nothing to her sister of the man in the hospital. She was not altogether surprised when she found a deer, gutted of its entrails and strung with a garland of flowers, on the cave’s doorstep one humid summer morning. —Jonathan Wild: August 31st, 1724.
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