_our_ world, by blood, whatever the law may
say--that she can't help making a rival out of her, and tormenting her
morning, noon, and night. I tell you, Sir Wilfrid, what that poor girl
has gone through no one can imagine but we who have watched it. Lady
Henry owes her _every_thing this last three years. Where would she have
been without Julie? She talks of Julie's separating her from her
friends, cutting her out, imposing upon her, and nonsense of that kind!
How would she have kept up that salon alone, I should like to know--a
blind old woman who can't write a note for herself or recognize a face?
First of all she throws everything upon Julie, is proud of her
cleverness, puts her forward in every way, tells most unnecessary
falsehoods about her--Julie has felt _that_ very much--and then when
Julie has a great success, when people begin to come to Bruton Street,
for her sake as well as Lady Henry's, then Lady Henry turns against her,
complains of her to everybody, talks about treachery and disloyalty and
Heaven knows what, and begins to treat her like the dirt under her feet!
How can Julie help being clever and agreeable--she _is_ clever and
agreeable! As Mr. Montresor said to me yesterday, 'As soon as that woman
comes into a room, my spirits go up!' And why? Because she never thinks
of herself, she always makes other people show at their best. And then
Lady Henry behaves like this!" The Duchess threw out her hands in
scornful reprobation. "And the question is, of course, Can it go on?"

"I don't gather," said Sir Wilfrid, hesitating, "that Lady Henry wants
immediately to put an end to it."

Delafield gave an angry laugh.

"The point is whether Mademoiselle Julie and Mademoiselle Julie's
friends can put up with it much longer."

"You see," said the Duchess, eagerly, "Julie is such a loyal,
affectionate creature. She knows Lady Henry was kind to her, to begin
with, that she gave her great chances, and that she's getting old and
infirm. Julie's awfully sorry for her. She doesn't want to leave her all
alone--to the mercy of her servants--"

"I understand the servants, too, are devoted to Mademoiselle Julie?"
said Sir Wilfrid.

"Yes, that's another grievance," said Delafield, contemptuously. "Why
shouldn't they be? When the butler had a child very ill, it was
Mademoiselle Julie who went to see it in the mews, who took it flowers
and grapes--"

"Lady Henry's grapes?" threw in Sir Wilfrid.

"What does it matter!" s