It hit her just above the knee. "No offence," returned Jonathan. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude. And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her. 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. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. Spurling, you're a witness to the bet. Jonathan smiled contemptuously.
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