ly touching.

It was evident the father and son thought of none but each other. From
time to time the man would make the boy rest on one of the seats in the
middle of the room, and the boy would look up and chatter to his
companion standing before him. Then again they would resume their walk,
the boy leaning on his father. Clearly the poor lad was marked for
death; clearly, also, he was the desire of his father's heart.

"The possessor, and the heir, of perhaps the finest houses and the most
magnificent estates in England," said Lord Lackington, with a shrug of
pity. "And Chudleigh would gladly give them all to keep that
boy alive."

Julie turned away. Strange thoughts had been passing and repassing
through her brain.

Then, with angry loathing, she flung her thoughts from her. What did the
Chudleigh inheritance matter to her? That night she said good-bye to the
man she loved. These three miserable, burning weeks were done. Her
heart, her life, would go with Warkworth to Africa and the desert. If at
the beginning of this period of passion--so short in prospect, and, to
look back upon, an eternity--she had ever supposed that power or wealth
could make her amends for the loss of her lover, she was in no mood to
calculate such compensations to-day. Parting was too near, the anguish
in her veins too sharp.

"Jacob takes them to Paris to-morrow," said the Duchess to Lord
Lackington. "The Duke has heard of some new doctor."

* * * * *

An hour or two later, Sir Wilfrid Bury, in the smoking-room of his club,
took out a letter which he had that morning received from Lady Henry
Delafield and gave it a second reading.

"So I hear that mademoiselle's social prospects are not,
after all, so triumphant as both she and I imagined. I gave
the world credit for more fools than it seems actually to
possess; and she--well, I own I am a little puzzled. Has she
taken leave of her senses? I am told that she is constantly
seen with this man; that in spite of all denials there can be
no doubt of his engagement to the Moffatt girl; and that _en
somme_ she has done herself no good by the whole affair. But,
after all, poor soul, she is disinterested. She stands to
gain nothing, as I understand; and she risks a good deal.
From this comfortable distance, I really find something
touching in her behavior.

"She gives her first 'Wednesday,' I un