" "Did I ask for it?" "Yes. Maybe later. ” She seemed unmoved, but she did not look at him. And she seemed always to keep one eye on Ann Veronica’s dress. "Rowland," she said, in a faint voice, "I have not many minutes to live. What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. 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. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. "When a man reaches the lowest scale through drink, we call him a beachcomber.
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