ation--that's all they'd ever want."

"Oh, go on--go on!" said the Duke, throwing himself exasperated into an
arm-chair; "the ease with which you dispose of my property on behalf of
a young woman who has caused me most acute annoyance, who has embroiled
us with a near relation for whom I have a very particular respect! _Her
friends_, indeed! Lady Henry's friends, you mean. Poor Lady Henry tells
me in this letter that her circle will be completely scattered. This
mischievous woman in three years has destroyed what it has taken Lady
Henry nearly thirty to build up. Now look here, Evelyn"--the Duke sat up
and slapped his knee--"as to this Cureton Street plan, I will do nothing
of the kind. You may have Miss Le Breton here for two or three nights if
you like--I shall probably go down to the country--and, of course, I
have no objection to make if you wish to help her find another
situation--"

"Another situation!" cried the Duchess, beside herself. "Freddie, you
really are impossible! Do you understand that I regard Julie Le Breton
as _my relation_, whatever you may say--that I love her dearly--that
there are fifty people with money and influence ready to help her if you
won't, because she is one of the most charming and distinguished women
in London--that you ought to be _proud_ to do her a service--that I want
you to have the _honor_ of it--there! And if you won't do this little
favor for me--when I ask and beg it of you--I'll make you remember it
for a very long time to come--you may be sure of that!"

And his wife turned upon him as an image of war, her fair hair ruffling
about her ears, her cheeks and eyes brilliant with anger--and
something more.

The Duke rose in silent ferocity and sought for some letters which he
had left on the mantel-piece.

"I had better leave you to come to your senses by yourself, and as
quickly as possible," he said, as he put them into his pockets. "No good
can come of any more discussion of this sort."

The Duchess said nothing. She looked out of the window busily, and bit
her lip. Her silence served her better than her speech, for suddenly the
Duke looked round, hesitated, threw down a book he carried, walked up to
her, and took her in his arms.

"You are a very foolish child," he declared, as he held her by main
force and kissed away her tears. "You make me lose my temper--and waste
my time--for nothing."

"Not at all," said the sobbing Duchess, trying to push herself away, and
d