The circle of faces drew eagerly nearer.
"Oh, it's war," said Sir Wilfrid, nodding--"undoubtedly war--upon the Cave--if there is a Cave."
"Well, poor things, we must have something to shelter us!" cried the Duchess. "The Cave is being aired to-day."
The interrogating faces turned her way. The Duchess explained the situation, and drew the house in Heribert Street--with its Cyclops-eye of a dormer window, and its Ionian columns--on the tea-cloth with her nail.
"Ah," said Sir Wilfrid, crossing his knees reflectively. "Ah, that makes it serious."
"Julie must have a place to live in," said the Duchess, stiffly.
"I suppose Lady Henry would reply that there are still a few houses in London which do not belong to her kinsman, the Duke of Crowborough."
"Not perhaps to be had for the lending, and ready to step into at a day's notice," said Lord Lackington, with his queer smile, like the play of sharp sunbeams through a mist. "That's the worst of our class. The margin between us and calamity is too wide. We risk too little. Nobody goes to the workhouse."
Sir Wilfrid looked at him curiously. "Do I catch your meaning?" he said, dropping his voice; "is it that if there had been no Duchess, and no Heribert Street, Miss Le Breton would have managed to put up with Lady Henry?"
Lord Lackington smiled again. "I think it probable.... As it is, however, we are all the gainers. We shall now see Miss Julie at her ease and ours."