“Every one. of like, one seventy-five or something?” She looked at Michelle with worry. “You silly fool,” he said. "We shall never be able to get you out unseen, Jack," whispered Poll Maggot. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. 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 think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. 1. What is the matter with you?” Dunster had withdrawn discreetly.
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