He bent towards her, smiling, though in truth he was disgusted with himself, vexed with her, and out of tune with all the world. The Duchess made a little face. "All very well, but after such a lecture as you have indulged in, I think I prefer not to say any more about Julie." "Do. I'm ashamed of myself--except that I don't retract one word, not one. Be kind, all the same, and tell me--if you know--has she spoken to Lord Lackington?" The Duchess still frowned, but a few more apologetic expressions on his part restored a temper that had always a natural tendency to peace. Indeed, Jacob's _boutades_ never went long unpardoned. An only child herself, he, her first cousin, had played the part of brother in her life, since the days when she first tottered in long frocks, and he had never played it in any mincing fashion. His words were often blunt. She smarted and forgave--much more quickly than she forgave her husband. But then, with him, she was in love. So she presently vouchsafed to give Jacob the news that Lord Lackington at last knew the secret--that he had behaved well--had shown much feeling, in fact--so that poor Julie-- But Jacob again cut short the sentimentalisms, the little touching phrases in which the woman delighted. "What is he going to do for her?" he said, impatiently. "Will he make any provision for her? Is there any way by which she can live in his house--take care of him?" The Duchess shook her head. "At seventy-five one can't begin to explain a thing as big as that. Julie perfectly understands, and doesn't wish it." "But as to money?" persisted Jacob. "Julie says nothing about money. How odd you are, Jacob! I thought that was the last thing needful in your eyes." Jacob did not reply. If he had, he would probably have said that what was harmful or useless for men might be needful for women--for the weakness of women. But he kept silence, while the vague intensity of the eyes, the pursed and twisted mouth, showed that his mind was full of thoughts. Suddenly he perceived that the carriage was nearing Victoria Gate. He called to the coachman to stop, and jumped out. "Good-bye, Evelyn. Don't bear me malice. You're a good friend," he said in her ear--"a real good friend. But don't let people talk to you--not even elderly ladies with the best intentions. I tell you it will be a fight, and one of the best weapons is"--he touched his lips significantly, smiled at her, and was gone.