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Updated: June 22, 2025
"It's under the new act," said the sergeant, almost apologetically. "Incurable disturbers of the peace." "What will happen to them?" she asked, with the same frigid clearness. "Westgate Adult Reformatory," he replied, briefly. "Until when?" "Until they are cured," said the official. "Very well, sergeant," said the young lady, with a sort of tired common sense.
The cave of Aeolus became their ideal of comfort, and they wondered where the Americans went when they wished to cool off. They had not the least idea, and they determined to apply for information to Mr. J. L. Westgate. This was the name inscribed in a bold hand on the back of a letter carefully preserved in the pocketbook of our junior traveler.
Sections of the town wall may be found in several places, but the most considerable portion is on the north side of the Westgate, where, until the middle of the last century, when Westernshore Road was made, high tides washed the foot of the wall. The arcading of this portion is much admired, and deservedly so.
Here and there a spectral tree loomed up among the rocks; a white hare's track, paralleled by the big round imprints of a lynx, ran along the unseen path they followed as Miller guided them toward Westgate. Later, outlined in the white waste, ancient apple-trees appeared, gnarled relics of some long-abandoned clearing; and, as they passed, Duane chanced to glance across the rocks to the left.
She mentioned nothing of what she had heard, or what she intended, at home. It would excite no proper interest there. She only consulted Lady Russell, who entered thoroughly into her sentiments, and was most happy to convey her as near to Mrs Smith's lodgings in Westgate Buildings, as Anne chose to be taken.
"Well, it won't last," Mr. Westgate very cheerfully declared; "nothing unpleasant lasts over here. It was very hot when Captain Littledale was here; he did nothing but drink sherry cobblers. He expressed some doubt in his letter whether I will remember him as if I didn't remember making six sherry cobblers for him one day in about twenty minutes.
"My dear Bessie, you are superb!" she said. "One thing is certain," the young girl continued. "If I believed I were a cause of annoyance however unwitting to Lord Lambeth's family, I should insist " "Insist upon my leaving England," said Mrs. Westgate. "No, not that. I want to go to the National Gallery again; I want to see Stratford-on-Avon and Canterbury Cathedral.
I mean people's houses; they send you cards." "No one has sent us cards," said Bessie. "We are very quiet," her sister declared. "We are here as travelers." "We have been to Madame Tussaud's," Bessie pursued. "Oh, I say!" cried Lord Lambeth. "We thought we should find your image there," said Mrs. Westgate "yours and Mr. Beaumont's." "In the Chamber of Horrors?" laughed the young man.
"You don't believe that do you, Miss Alden?" asked his lordship. "You don't believe I'm a humbug, eh?" "No," said Bessie, "I don't." "You are too tall to stand up, Lord Lambeth," Mrs. Westgate observed. "You are only tolerable when you sit down. Be so good as to get a chair." He found a chair and placed it sidewise, close to the two ladies.
I want to carry you back to a time when Ramsgate was still but a green gap in the long line of chalk cliff, and Margate but the chine of a little trickling streamlet that tumbled seaward over the undesecrated sands; when a broad arm of the sea still cut off Westgate from the Reculver cliffs, and when the tide swept unopposed four times a day over the submerged sands of Minster Level.
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