Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. Sanguine they were not. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. ‘And how do you propose to get in?’ ‘Scullery window. "No," replied Jack, peremptorily. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. 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. How many ends had he? Well, she must cease to trouble herself for this imbecile, whom it would give her very much pleasure to shoot. “Do not force me to take you seriously,” she continued. His glance came up again and met hers. "There's my answer!" rejoined Wild, hurling the bludgeon at him, with such fatal effect, that striking him on the head it brought him instantly to the ground.
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