matter what I think? It is not I who have appointed him."

"Not so sure," laughed the Duchess. "As if he would have had a chance
without you. Whom did he know last November when you took him up?"

Julie moved to and fro, her hands behind her. The tremor on her lip, the
light in her eye showed her sense of triumph.

"What have I done," she said, laughing, "but push a few stones out of
the way of merit?"

"Some of them were heavy," said the Duchess, making a little face. "Need
I invite Lady Froswick any more?"

Julie threw her arms about her.

"Evelyn, what a darling you've been! Now I'll never worry you again."

"Oh, for some people I would do ten times as much!" cried the Duchess.
"But, Julie, I wish I knew why you think so well of this man. I--I don't
always hear very nice things about him."

"I dare say not," said Julie, flushing. "It is easy to hate success."

"No, come, we're not as mean as that!" cried the Duchess. "I vow that
all the heroes I've ever known had a ripping time. Julie"--she kissed
her friend impulsively--"Julie, don't like him too much. I don't think
he's good enough."

"Good enough for what?" said Julie's bitter voice. "Make yourself easy
about Captain Warkworth, Evelyn; but please understand--_anything_ is
good enough for me. Don't let your dear head be troubled about my
affairs. They are never serious, and nothing counts--except," she added,
recklessly, "that I get a little amusement by the way."

"Julie," cried the Duchess, "as if Jacob--"

Julie frowned and released herself; then she laughed.

"Nothing that one ever says about ordinary mortals applies to Mr.
Delafield. He is, of course, _hors concours_."

"Julie!"

"It is you, Evelyn, who make me _mechante_. I could be grateful--and
excellent friends with that young man--in my own way."

The Duchess sighed, and held her tongue with difficulty.

* * * * *

When the successful hero arrived that night for dinner he found a
solitary lady in the drawing-room.

Was this, indeed, Julie Le Breton--this soft, smiling vision in white?

He expected to have found a martyr, pale and wan from the shock of the
catastrophe which had befallen her, and, even amid the intoxication of
his own great day, he was not easy as to how she might have taken his
behavior on the fatal night. But here was some one, all joy, animation,
and indulgence--a glorified Julie who trod on air. Why? Because
good-fortune had befalle