thought, that neither she nor
Lady Henry wished to be questioned. But, do you, for instance--I have no
doubt Lady Henry tells you more than she tells me--do you know anything
of Mademoiselle Julie's antecedents?"

Sir Wilfrid started. Through his mind ran the same reflection as that to
which the Duke had given expression in the morning--"_she ought to
reveal herself!_" Julie Le Breton had no right to leave this old man in
his ignorance, while those surrounding him were in the secret. Thereby
she made a spectacle of her mother's father--made herself and him the
sport of curious eyes. For who could help watching them--every movement,
every word? There was a kind of indelicacy in it.

His reply was rather hesitating. "Yes, I happen to know something. But I
feel sure Miss Le Breton would prefer to tell you herself. Ask her.
While she was with Lady Henry there were reasons for silence--"

"But, of course, I'll ask her," said his companion, eagerly, "if you
suppose that I may. A more hungry curiosity was never raised in a human
breast than in mine with regard to this dear lady. So charming,
handsome, and well bred--and so forlorn! That's the paradox of it. The
personality presupposes a _milieu_--else how produce it? And there is no
_milieu_, save this little circle she has made for herself through Lady
Henry.... Ah, and you think I may ask her? I will--that's flat--I will!"

And the old man gleefully rubbed his hands, face and form full of the
vivacity of his imperishable youth.

"Choose your time and place," said Sir Wilfrid, hastily. "There are very
sad and tragic circumstances--"

Lord Lackington looked at him and nodded gayly, as much as to say, "You
distrust me with the sex? Me, who have had the whip-hand of them since
my cradle!"

Suddenly the Duchess interrupted. "Sir Wilfrid, you have seen Lady
Henry; which did she mind most--the coming-in or the coffee?"

Bury returned, smiling, to the tea-table.

"The coming-in would have been nothing if it had led quickly to the
going-out. It was the coffee that ruined you."

"I see," said the Duchess, pouting--"it meant that it was possible for
us to enjoy ourselves without Lady Henry. That was the offence."

"Precisely. It showed that you _were_ enjoying yourselves. Otherwise
there would have been no lingering, and no coffee."

"I never knew coffee so fatal before," sighed the Duchess. "And now"--it
was evident that she shrank from the answer to her own question--"sh