"I'm glad you know her birthday."
"She knows yours; she always gives you something," Lady Agnes reminded her son.
"Her taste is good then, isn't it, Nick?" Grace Dormer continued.
"She makes charming presents; but, dear mother, it isn't her taste. It's her husband's."
"How her husband's?"
"The beautiful objects of which she disposes so freely are the things he collected for years laboriously, devotedly, poor man!"
"She disposes of them to you, but not to others," said Lady Agnes. "But that's all right," she added, as if this might have been taken for a complaint of the limitations of Julia's bounty. "She has to select among so many, and that's a proof of taste," her ladyship pursued.
"You can't say she doesn't choose lovely ones," Grace remarked to her brother in a tone of some triumph.
"My dear, they're all lovely. George Dallow's judgement was so sure, he was incapable of making a mistake," Nicholas Dormer returned.
"I don't see how you can talk of him, he was dreadful," said Lady Agnes.