Delafield was walking through the Park towards Victoria Gate. A pair of beautiful roans pulled up suddenly beside him, and a little figure with a waving hand bent to him from a carriage.
"Jacob, where are you off to? Let me give you a lift?"
The gentleman addressed took off his hat.
"Much obliged to you, but I want some exercise. I say, where did Freddie get that pair?"
"I don't know, he doesn't tell me. Jacob, you must get in. I want to speak to you."
Rather unwillingly, Delafield obeyed, and away they sped.
"J'ai un tas de choses à vous dire," she said, speaking low, and in French, so as to protect herself from the servants in front. "Jacob, I'm very unhappy about Julie."
Delafield frowned uncomfortably.
"Why? Hadn't you better leave her alone?"
"Oh, of course, I know you think me a chatterbox. I don't care. You must let me tell you some fresh news about her. It isn't gossip, and you and I are her best friends. Oh, Freddie's so disagreeable about her. Jacob, you've got to help and advise a little. Now, do listen. It's your duty--your downright catechism duty."