An assenting murmur ran round the circle.
"Julie's free! Only she's very lonely. We must see to that, mustn't we? Lady Henry can buy another companion to-morrow--she will. She has heaps of money and heaps of friends, and she'll tell her own story to them all. But Julie has only us. If we desert her--"
"Desert her!" said a voice in the distance, half amused, half electrical. Bury thought it was Jacob's.
"Of course we sha'n't desert her!" cried the Duchess. "We shall rally round her and carry her through. If Lady Henry makes herself disagreeable, then we'll fight. If not, we'll let her cool down. Oh, Julie, darling--here you are!"
The Duchess sprang up and caught her entering friend by the hand.
"And here are we," with a wave round the circle. "This is your court--your St. Germain."
"So you mean me to die in exile," said Julie, with a quavering smile, as she drew off her gloves. Then she looked at her friends. "Oh, how good of you all to come! Lord Lackington!" She went up to him impetuously, and he, taken by surprise, yielded his hands, which she took in both hers. "It was foolish, I know, but you don't think it was so bad, do you?"
She gazed up at him wistfully. Her lithe form seemed almost to cling to the old man. Instinctively, Jacob, Meredith, Sir Wilfrid Bury withdrew their eyes. The room held its breath. As for Lord Lackington, he colored like a girl.
"No, no; a mistake, perhaps, for all of us; but more ours than yours, mademoiselle--much more! Don't fret. Indeed, you look as if you hadn't slept, and that mustn't be. You must think that, sooner or later, it was bound to come. Lady Henry will soften in time, and you will know so well how to meet her. But now we have your future to think of. Only sit down. You mustn't look so tired. Where have you been wandering?"
And with a stately courtesy, her hand still in his, he took her to a chair and helped her to remove her heavy cloak.