" he entreated, "don't
quarrel with everybody who may sympathize with her. Let them take what
view they please. Ignore it--be as magnanimous as you can."

"On the contrary!" She was now white to the lips. "Whoever goes with her
gives me up. They must choose--once for all."

"My dear friend, listen to reason."

And, drawing his chair close to her, he argued with her for half an
hour. At the end of that time her gust of passion had more or less
passed away; she was, to some extent, ashamed of herself, and, as he
believed, not far from tears.

"When I am gone she will think of what I have been saying," he assured
himself, and he rose to take his leave. Her look of exhaustion
distressed him, and, for all her unreason, he felt himself astonishingly
in sympathy with her. The age in him held out secret hands to the age in
her--as against encroaching and rebellious youth.

Perhaps it was the consciousness of this mood in him which at last
partly appeased her.

"Well, I'll try again. I'll _try_ to hold my tongue," she granted him,
sullenly. "But, understand, she, sha'n't go to that bazaar!"

"That's a great pity," was his naive reply. "Nothing would put you in a
better position than to give her leave."

"I shall do nothing of the kind," she vowed. "And now good-night,
Wilfrid--good-night. You're a very good fellow, and if I _can_ take your
advice, I will."

* * * * *

Lady Henry sat alone in her brightly lighted drawing-room for some time.
She could neither read nor write nor sew, owing to her blindness, and in
the reaction from her passion of the afternoon she felt herself very old
and weary.

But at last the door opened and Julie Le Breton's light step approached.

"May I read to you?" she said, gently.

Lady Henry coldly commanded the _Observer_ and her knitting.

She had no sooner, however, begun to knit than her very acute sense of
touch noticed something wrong with the wool she was using.

"This is not the wool I ordered," she said, fingering it carefully. "You
remember, I gave you a message about it on Thursday? What did they say
about it at Winton's?"

Julie laid down the newspaper and looked in perplexity at the ball of
wool.

"I remember you gave me a message," she faltered.

"Well, what did they say?"

"I suppose that was all they had."

Something in the tone struck Lady Henry's quick ears. She raised a
suspicious face.

"Did you ever go to Winton's at all?" s