Eleven pounds."

"Twelve."

"Thirteen."

"Fourteen."

"Sixteen."

"Eighteen."

"Twenty."

"Twenty guineas."

"It is yours, my faithful friend," said Rosa, turning suddenly round
to Mrs. Cole, with a magnificent glance no one would have thought her
capable of.

Then she rose and stalked away.

Dumfounded for the moment, Mrs. Cole followed her, and stopped her at
the door.

"Why, Rosie dear, it is the only thing I have bid for. There I've sat by
your side like a mouse."

Rosa turned gravely towards her. "You know it is not that. You had only
to tell me you wanted it. I would never have been so mean as to bid
against you."

"Mean, indeed!" said. Florence, tossing her head.

"Yes, mean; to draw back and hide behind the friend you were with,
and employ the very rogue she had turned off. But it is my own fault.
Cecilia warned me against you. She always said you were a treacherous
girl."

"And I say you are an impudent little minx. Only just married, and going
about like two vagabonds, and talk to me like that!"

"We are not going about like two vagabonds. We have taken a house in
Mayfair."

"Say a stable."

"It was by your advice, you false-hearted creature."

"You are a fool."

"You are worse; you are a traitress."

"Then don't you have anything to do with me."

"Heaven forbid I should, you treacherous thing!"

"You insolent--insolent--I hate you."

"And I despise you."

"I always hated you at bottom."

"That's why you pretended to love me, you wretch."

"Well, I pretend no more. I am your enemy for life."

"Thank you. You have told the truth for once in your life."

"I have. And he shall never call in your husband; so you may leave
Mayfair as soon as you like."

"Not to please you, madam. We can get on without traitors."

And so they parted, with eyes that gleamed like tigers.

Rosa drove home in great agitation, and tried to tell Christopher; but
choked, and became hysterical. The husband-physician coaxed and scolded
her out of that; and presently in came Uncle Philip, full of the humors
of the auction-room. He told about the little boy with a delight that
disgusted Mrs. Staines, and then was particularly merry on female
friendships. "Fancy a man going to a sale with his friend, and bidding
against him on the sly."

"She is no friend of mine. We are enemies for life."

"And you were to be friends till death," said Staines, with a sigh.

Philip inquired who she was.

"Mrs