" "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. E. One transgression; he was sure of that. To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr. ” Inwardly, she laughed at the idea of him trying to beat on her, flailing, his arms akimbo. 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.
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