e's dark, lissome strength,
gowned and gloved in neat, close black, was marked enough.

As the Duchess spoke, Julie looked smiling at Jacob Delafield.

"I am in your hands," she said, gently. "Of course I don't want to keep
anything from Lady Henry. Please decide for me."

Sir Wilfrid's mouth showed a satirical line. He turned aside and began
to play with a copy of the _Spectator_.

"Julie," said the Duchess, hesitating, "I hope you won't mind, but we
have been discussing things a little with Sir Wilfrid. I felt sure Aunt
Flora had been talking to him."

"Of course," said Julie, "I knew she would." She looked towards Sir
Wilfrid, slightly drawing herself up. Her manner was quiet, but all her
movements were somehow charged with a peculiar and interesting
significance. The force of the character made itself felt through all
disguises.

In spite of himself, Sir Wilfrid began to murmur apologetic things.

"It was natural, mademoiselle, that Lady Henry should confide in me. She
has perhaps told you that for many years I have been one of the trustees
of her property. That has led to her consulting me on a good many
matters. And evidently, from what she says and what the Duchess says,
nothing could be of more importance to her happiness, now, in her
helpless state, than her relations to you."

He spoke with a serious kindness in which the tinge of mocking habitual
to his sleek and well-groomed visage was wholly lost. Julie Le Breton
met him with dignity.

"Yes, they are important. But, I fear they cannot go on as they are."

There was a pause. Then Sir Wilfrid approached her:

"I hear you are returning to Bruton Street immediately. Might I be your
escort?"

"Certainly."

The Duchess, a little sobered by the turn events had taken and the
darkened prospects of her bazaar, protested in vain against this sudden
departure. Julie resumed her furs, which, as Sir Wilfrid, who was
curious in such things; happened to notice, were of great beauty, and
made her farewells. Did her hand linger in Jacob Delafield's? Did the
look with which that young man received it express more than the
steadfast support which justice offers to the oppressed? Sir Wilfrid
could not be sure.

[Illustration: "'INDEED I WILL!' CRIED SIR WILFRID, AND THEY WALKED ON"]

As they stepped out into the frosty, lamp-lit dark of Grosvenor Square,
Julie Le Breton turned to her companion.

"You knew my mother and father," she said, abruptly. "I remembe