The Duchess said nothing. She looked out of the window busily, and bit her lip. Her silence served her better than her speech, for suddenly the Duke looked round, hesitated, threw down a book he carried, walked up to her, and took her in his arms.
"You are a very foolish child," he declared, as he held her by main force and kissed away her tears. "You make me lose my temper--and waste my time--for nothing."
"Not at all," said the sobbing Duchess, trying to push herself away, and denying him, as best she could, her soft, flushed face. "You don't, or you won't, understand! I was--I was very fond of Uncle George Chantrey. He would have helped Julie if he were alive. And as for you, you're Lord Lackington's godson, and you're always preaching what he's done for the army, and what the nation owes him--and--and--"
"Does he know?" said the Duke, abruptly, marvelling at the irrelevance of these remarks.
"No, not a word. Only six people in London know--Aunt Flora, Sir Wilfrid Bury"--the Duke made an exclamation--"Mr. Montresor, Jacob, you, and I."
"Jacob!" said the Duke. "What's he got to do with it?"
The Duchess suddenly saw her opportunity, and rushed upon it.
"Only that he's madly in love with her, that's all. And, to my knowledge, she has refused him both last year and this. Of course, naturally, if you won't do anything to help her, she'll probably marry him--simply as a way out."
"Well, of all the extraordinary affairs!"
The Duke released her, and stood bewildered. The Duchess watched him in some excitement. He was about to speak, when there was a sound in the anteroom. They moved hastily apart. The door was thrown open, and the footman announced, "Miss Le Breton."