g the hands. "But I must choose my
duke. And till the right one appears, I prefer my own wild ways."

"Afraid of Jacob Delafield? How odd!" said the Duchess, with her chin on
her hands.

"It may be odd to you," said Julie, with vivacity. "In reality, it's not
in the least odd. There's the same quality in him that there is in Lady
Henry--something that beats you down," she added, under her breath.
"There, that's enough about Mr. Delafield--quite enough."

And, rising, Julie threw up her arms and clasped her hands above her
head. The gesture was all strength and will, like the stretching of a
sea-bird's wings.

The Duchess looked at her with eyes that had begun to waver.

"Julie, I heard such an odd piece of news last night."

Julie turned.

"You remember the questions you asked me about Aileen Moffatt?"

"Perfectly."

"Well, I saw a man last night who had just come home from Simla. He saw
a great deal of her, and he says that she and her mother were adored in
India. They were thought so quaint and sweet--unlike other people--and
the girl so lovely, in a sort of gossamer way. And who do you think was
always about with them--at Peshawar first, and then at Simla--so that
everybody talked? Captain Warkworth! My man believed there was an
understanding between them."

Julie had begun to fill the flower-glasses with water and unpack the
flower-basket. Her back was towards the Duchess. After a moment she
replied, her hands full of forced narcissuses:

"Well, that would be a _coup_ for him."

"I should think so. She is supposed to have half a million in coal-mines
alone, besides land. Has Captain Warkworth ever said anything to you
about them?"

"No. He has never mentioned them."

The Duchess reflected, her eyes still on Julie's back.

"Everybody wants money nowadays. And the soldiers are just as bad as
anybody else. They don't _look_ money, as the City men do--that's why we
women fall in love with them--but they _think_ it, all the same."

Julie made no reply. The Duchess could see nothing of her. But the
little lady's face showed the flutter of one determined to venture yet a
little farther on thin ice.

"Julie, I've done everything you've asked me. I sent a card for the 20th
to that _rather_ dreadful woman, Lady Froswick. I was very clever with
Freddie about that living; and I've talked to Mr. Montresor. But, Julie,
if you don't mind, I really should like to know why you're so keen
about it?"

The Duche