I was rude and stupid. 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 entered a hansom and turned on to the Embankment. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. Joan told me it was hung somewhere in the house, only I couldn’t remember where after all this time. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. "Good work. ‘R-rien. On the whole, I think that I have been disappointed with the life here. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to.
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