"Was the betting even, Taffy?" asks Cyril.
"No. She said——"
"Taffy!"
"She said he had as much idea of proposing to her as she had of——"
"Taffy!"
"Marrying him, even should he ask her," winds up Mr. Musgrave, exploding with joy over his discomfiting disclosure.
"No one believes you," says Lilian, in despair, while they all laugh heartily, and Cyril tells her not to make bad bets in future.
"Not one," says Sir Guy, supporting her as in duty bound; "but I really think you ought to give him that five pounds."
"Certainly I shall not," says Miss Chesney, hotly. "It is all a fabrication from beginning to end. I never made a bet in my life. And, besides, the time he named was the end of the year, and not in six months."