The two hours were not only happy; they were the happiest
he had ever known.

The clock had hardly struck six when old Mrs. Waterlow's cab drove up.

"Don't go; mamma will so like to see you," said Mrs. Waterlow. "She so
enjoyed that little visit you paid her over a year ago, you know."

This was the first reference that had been made to the visit. He
wondered if she guessed what it had done for their friendship.

Old Mrs. Waterlow came in, wearing just such a delightful, flowing black
satin cloak and deep black satin bonnet as he would have expected her to
wear. And seeing him there with her daughter-in-law, she paused, as if
arrested, on the threshold. Then, her eyes passing from the tea-table
and its intimacy of grouping with the two chairs they had risen from,
and resting brightly on her daughter's face, where she must read the
reflection of his happiness, Owen saw that she cast off a scruple, came
to a decision, and renewed the impulse that had brought her up the
stairs, he now realised, at an uncharacteristic speed.

"My dear Cicely," she exclaimed, after she had greeted him, "you've lost
your wager!"

Cicely Waterlow gazed at her for a moment and then she flushed deeply.

"Have I, mamma?" she said, busying herself with the kettle. "Well, that
pleases you, and doesn't displease me. You'll want some tea, won't you?"

"Yes, indeed, I want some tea. But you'll not put me off with tea, my
dear. I want to talk about my wager, too; and Mr. Stacpole will want to
hear about it, for it was his wager as well. You did say that you felt
convinced that I was safe in my haven, didn't you, Mr. Stacpole? Well,
I've lost it, and I'm not at all pleased to have lost it. I'm
triumphant, if you will, but savage, too. You'll forgive me, I know, Mr.
Stacpole, if I'm savage with your cousin when I tell you that she has
been inspired with a black satin suite and mahogany furniture and
bead-work since seeing Cicely's new drawing-room in Chislebridge."

"Mamma!" Cicely protested. "Two people can perfectly well have the same
idea at the same time! There's no reason in the world why Gwendolen
shouldn't feel just my fancy for funny, old, ugly things."

"She didn't show any fancy for them when she saw them a year ago, did
she, dear?" said the intractable old lady, seating herself at the
tea-table. "She was very guarded, very mute, though very observant. Yes;
people may have the same idea, but they'll hardly have the same black
satin f