"Julie, my darling, are you fit to come with me?"
The Duchess held her friend in her arms, soothing and caressing her. How forlorn was the little house, under its dust-sheets, on this rainy, spring morning! And Julie, amid the dismantled drawing-room, stood spectrally white and still, listening, with scarcely a word in reply, to the affection, or the pity, or the news which the Duchess poured out upon her.
"Shall we go now? I am quite ready."
And she withdrew herself from the loving grasp which held her, and put on her hat and gloves.
"You ought to be in bed," said the Duchess. "Those night journeys are too abominable. Even Jacob looks a wreck. But what an extraordinary chance, Julie, that Jacob should have found you! How did you come across each other?"
"At the Nord Station," said Julie, as she pinned her veil before the glass over the mantel-piece.
Some instinct silenced the Duchess. She asked no more questions, and they started for St. James's Square.
"You won't mind if I don't talk?" said Julie, leaning back and closing her eyes. "I seem still to have the sea in my ears."
The Duchess looked at her tenderly, clasping her hand close, and the carriage rolled along. But just before they reached St. James's Square, Julie hastily raised the fingers which held her own and kissed them.