A wide terrace then led to large iron gates,' over which were placed the two celebrated figures of Raving and Melancholy Madness, executed by the elder Cibber, and commemorated by Pope in the Dunciad, in the wellknown lines:— "Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, Where, o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand, Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand. A married man!—the kind I've never been able to lure down there! But keep your temper in check. "What's become of Ruth?" "Gone to her room. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. She caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror. "Often. ‘When you’re my age, you’ll be just as hardheaded. All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. The doctor would never betray him. It came to her like a dear thing rediscovered, that she loved Capes. That'll tune me up. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. "Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard. “Sydney is quite right, Miss Pellissier,” he said. ” “And he sat at my table,” Annabel said bitterly, “and yet he did not know me.
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