They laughed, watching each other, curiously.
"Which ought to teach me never again to make any such highly original and sporting wagers," she said. "Anyway, you were perfectly nice about it. Of course you couldn't very well have been otherwise. Tell me, did you really suppose me to be attractive? You couldn't judge. How could you—under that mask?"
"Do you think that your mouth could have possibly belonged to any other kind of a face except your own?" he said coolly.
"Is my mouth unusual?"
"Very."
"How is it unusual?"
"I haven't analysed the matter, but it is somehow so indescribable that I guessed very easily what the other features must be."
"Oh, flattery! Oh, impudence! Do you remember when Falstaff said that the lion could always recognise the true prince? Shame on you, Mr. Quarren. You are not only a very adroit flatterer but a perfectly good sportsman after all—and the most gifted tormentor I ever knew in all my life. And I like you fine!" She laughed, and made a quick little gesture, partly arrested as he met her more than half way, touching the rim of his glass to hers. "To our friendship," he said.
"Our friendship," she repeated, gaily, "if the gods speed it."
"—And—its consequences," he added. "Don't forget those."