On regaining his breath, he began to consider whither chance had led him; and, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he perceived a sombre pile, with a lofty tower and broad roof, immediately in front of him. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. “Is that a challenge?” She shrugged her shoulders, all ablaze with jewels. . Let us be gone. ‘God loves you, even if your father didn’t. “I can’t see what possible benefit can come of discussing things that are settled. 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. She smiled. The colouring was green and white, with softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. "'Odd's! bodikins!" cried Jack, rubbing his cheek, "I'm in luck to-day. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. From one window the beach was always visible; from another, the stores.
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