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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. They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. ’ She sipped at the liquid in her glass, but her eyes remained fixed, rather unnervingly, on Gerald. But I don’t think she lays hold of one so. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. That was Leonardo’s motto. ” She distantly remembered moments in childhood spent in phobic trance, when her father had told her God was punishing sinners in Hell. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame.
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