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To her consternation, the sound drew her great-aunt’s attention and she threw out a hand. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. ” With a little crash the pistol fell from her shaking fingers. And the door was suddenly thrown open, and the two janizaries felled to the ground by the strong arm of the stalwart robber. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. ” His eyes were burning. What marriage really meant (aside from the idea of escape), Ruth had not the least conception, no more than a child. As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. She hesitated about her name, and, being prompted, gave it at last as Ann Veronica Smith, 107A, Chancery Lane. 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. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. A pig, yes, a little.

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