Mr. I’m glad the old sore is assuaged. ” “Young? I am twenty-four. Let's talk of this chap. Last time I left home I felt as hard as nails. At least I can’t talk to them. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. 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 hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. " "A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,—remember that," rejoined Wood. She would ignore him. He laughed suddenly, and released her. How dreary it all looks. And you are something of a heroine, too.
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