” “And I also,” Brendon echoed. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. So it was with Gosse, who had wanted to marry her. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. 54 \"Yes?\" \"No one says 'Oh my word' anymore. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. I needn't tell you to tread carefully. ‘And if it is true that you love me, I do not know why it is that you do not kiss me again at once. 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. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow. Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. ” “They were my posters,” Annabel said.
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