"Yes," replied Hester, "I am very much interested in this marriage. Mr. Streightley is one of my oldest, and his sister is one of my dearest friends." "Just so," said Mr. Thacker. "I don't know much of Streightley; but I know something of the bride, and more of her father. A capital match for her and him." "Meaning Mr. Streightley?" "Meaning Mr. Guyon, Miss Gould. I am going to Hampstead: could I prevail on you to visit my sisters to-day? My phaeton is at the door. Do let me have the honour, Miss Gould; a visit from you is such a pleasure to them." "Thank you, no; not to-day. My time is not my own, you know, Mr. Thacker, and I have an appointment at one o'clock a good distance from here." "I am so sorry, so disappointed. Perhaps later in the day; I can be at your service at any hour." "No, thank you." Hester smiled slowly as she spoke. "I promised to give this evening to Miss Streightley. She will have so much to tell; and she will come home as soon as possible after the bride and bridegroom are gone." "Ah, by the bye, where are they going to?" "Where? To Paradise, of course; but _en attendant_, I believe, to Switzerland." And Hester Gould, who had for the first time in her life been wanting in caution, bade Mr. Thacker "good morning;" and that gentleman watched her as she walked away, and said under his breath: "By Jove, she _did_ play for Streightley, and Miss Guyon beat her!" So those twain were one flesh, and departed according to prescribed routine for their bridal tour on the Continent. So far the contract had been carried out, the price paid, and the goods delivered into the carriage by Mr. Guyon, who converted a broad smile of triumph into a doleful look of farewell; and who, as the happy pair drove away, turned back into the dining-room to expedite the departure of his guests, in order that he and Lady Henmarsh might have a quiet talk together over the past and the future.