“My dear Jack, I need n't tell you that we girls are not always fair in our estimates of each other, even when we think we are,--and it is not always that we want to think so. Julia is not a coquette in any sense that the word carries censure, and you were exceedingly wrong to tell her she was.” “That's how it is!” cried he, pitching his cigar away in impatience. “There's a freemasonry amongst you that calls you all to arms the moment one is attacked. Is n't it open to a man to tell the girl he hopes to make his wife that there are things in her manner he does n't approve of and would like changed?” “Certainly not; at least it would require some nicer tact than yours to approach such a theme with safety.” “Temple, perhaps, could do it,” said he, sneeringly. “Temple certainly would not attempt it.” Jack made a gesture of impatience, and, as if desirous to change the subject, said, “What 's the matter with our distinguished guest? Is he ill, that he won't dine below-stairs to-day?” “He calls it a slight return of his Greek fever, and begs to be excused from presenting himself at dinner.” “He and Temple have been writing little three-cornered notes to each other all the morning. I suppose it is diplomatic usage.” The tone of irritation he spoke in seemed to show that he was actually seeking for something to vent his anger upon, and trying to provoke some word of contradiction or dissent; but she was silent, and for some seconds they walked on without speaking. “Look!” cried he, suddenly; “there goes Julia. Do you see her yonder on the path up the cliff; and who is that clambering after her? I'll be shot if it's not Lord Culduff.” “Julia has got her drawing-book, I see. They're on some sketching excursion.” “He was n't long in throwing off his Greek fever, eh?” cried Jack, indignantly. “It's cool, isn't it, to tell the people in whose house he is stopping that he is too ill to dine with them, and then set out gallivanting in this fashion?” “Poor old man!” said she, in a tone of half-scornful pity. “Was I right about Julia now?” cried he, angrily. “I told you for whose captivation all her little gracefulnesses were intended. I saw it the first night he stood beside her at the piano. As Marion said, she is determined to bring him down. She saw it as well as I did.” “What nonsense you are talking, Jack; as if Julia would condescend--” “There 's no condescension, Nelly,” he broke in. “The man is a Lord, and the woman he marries will be a peeress; and there 's not another country in Europe in which that word means as much. I take it, we need n't go on to the cottage now?” “I suppose we could scarcely overtake them?” “Overtake them! Why should we try? Even _my_ tact, Nelly, that you sneered at so contemptuously a while ago, would save me from such a blunder. Come, let's go home and forget, if we can, all that we came about. _I_ at least will try and do so.” “My dear, dear Jack, this is very foolish jealousy.”