pieces of china--rummage sale relics, she called
them--set forth in a glass-doored cabinet, as if they were heirlooms.
Mrs. Polkington had a romance about several of them that made them
seem like heirlooms to her friends and almost to herself. The whole,
as Julia looked around, struck her as shoddy and vulgar in its
unreality.

"I'm not coming back to it, no, I'm not," she said, half aloud; "the
corduroy and onions would be a great deal better."

Cherie passed the open door at that minute and half heard her. "What
did you say?" she asked.

Julia looked round. "Nothing," she answered, "only that I am not
coming back to this sort of life."

"To Marbridge?" Cherie asked, "or to the house? If it is the house you
mean, you need not trouble about that; there isn't much chance of your
being able to go on living here; you will have to move into something
less expensive. I am sure Uncle William will insist on it. There is
more room than you will want here after I am gone, and as for
appearance and society, there won't be much object in keeping that
up."

Julia laughed. "You don't think I am a sufficiently marketable
commodity to be worth much outlay?" she said. "You are quite right;
besides, it is just that which I mean; I have come to the conclusion
that I don't admire the way we live here."

"So have I," Cherie answered; "no one in their senses would; but it
was the best we could do in the circumstances and before you grumble
at it you had better be sure you don't get something worse."

Julia did not think she should do that, and Cherie seeing it went on,
"Oh, of course you have got L50 a year, I know, but you can't live on
that; besides, I expect Uncle William will want you to do something
else with it."

"I shall do what I please," Julia replied, and Cherie never doubted
it; she would have done no less herself had she been the fortunate
legatee, Uncle William or twenty Uncle Williams notwithstanding.

This important relative had not been to Marbridge yet, in spite of
what he wrote to his sister; he had not been able to get away. Indeed,
he was not able to do so until the day after Cherie's wedding. Mrs.
Polkington was in a happy and contented frame of mind; the quiet
wedding had gone off quite as well as Violet's grander one--really, a
quiet wedding is more effective than a smart one in the dull time of
year, and always, of course, less expensive. Cherie had looked lovely
in simple dress, and the presents, consi