‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. Plote was sleeping or deaf. ’ ‘No, but you’ve made up for it since. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. She is in Wild's power. 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. I told you, Sir Rowland," he added, turning to the knight, and chuckling, "the devil never deserts me. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness.
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