ying this incredible treat as
fully as possible, they at once seated themselves on a low sofa at the
far end of the room where they could not look or learn at all, and
engaged in conversation. Diva and Elizabeth, as might have been expected
from the malignant influence which watched over their attire, cut in at
the same table and were partners, so that they had, in spite of the
deadly antagonism of identical tea-gowns, a financial interest in
common, while a further bond between them was the eagerness with which
they strained their ears to overhear anything that their hostess and Mr.
Wyse were saying to each other.

Miss Mapp and Diva alike were perhaps busier when they were being dummy
than when they were playing the cards. Over the background of each mind
was spread a hatred of the other, red as their tea-gowns, and shot with
black despair as to what on earth they should do now with those
ill-fated pieces of pride. Miss Mapp was prepared to make a perfect
chameleon of hers, if only she could get away from Diva's hue, but what
if, having changed, say, to purple, Diva became purple too? She could
not stand a third coincidence, and besides, she much doubted whether any
gown that had once been of so pronounced a crimson-lake, could
successfully attempt to appear of any other hue except perhaps black. If
Diva died, she might perhaps consult Miss Greele as to whether black
would be possible, but then if Diva died, there was no reason for not
wearing crimson-lake for ever, since it would be an insincerity of which
Miss Mapp humbly hoped she was incapable, to go into mourning for Diva
just because she died.

In front of this lurid background of despair moved the figures which
would have commanded all her attention, have aroused all the feelings of
disgust and pity of which she was capable, had only Diva stuck to
kingfisher-blue. There they sat on the sofa, talking in voices which it
was impossible to overhear, and if ever a woman made up to a man, and if
ever a man was taken in by shallow artifices, "they," thought Miss Mapp,
"are the ones." There was no longer any question that Susan was doing
her utmost to inveigle Mr. Wyse into matrimony, for no other motive, not
politeness, not the charm of conversation, not the low, comfortable seat
by the fire could possibly have had force enough to keep her for a whole
evening from the bridge-table. That dinner _en famille_, so Miss Mapp
sarcastically reflected--what if it was the fir