Lady Hubert herself made for ease—­partly, no doubt, for stupidity.  She was fair, sleepy, and substantial.  Her husband had spent her fortune, and ruffled all the temper she had.  The Hubert Delafields were now, however, better off than they had been—­investments had recovered—­and Lady Hubert’s temper was once more placid, as Providence had meant it to be.  During the coming season it was her firm intention to marry her daughter, who now stood beside her as she received her guests—­a blonde, sweet-featured girl, given, however, so it was said, to good works, and not at all inclined to trouble herself overmuch about a husband.

The rooms were fairly full; and the entry of the Duchess and Mademoiselle Le Breton was one of the incidents of the evening, and visibly quickened the pulses of the assembly.  The little Dresden-china Duchess, with her clothes, her jewels, and her smiles, had been, since her marriage, one of the chief favorites of fashion.  She had been brought up in the depths of the country, and married at eighteen.  After six years she was not in the least tired of her popularity or its penalties.  All the life in her dainty person, her glancing eyes, and small, smiling lips rose, as it were, to meet the stir that she evoked.  She vaguely saw herself as Titania, and played the part with childish glee.  And like Titania, as she had more than once ruefully reflected, she was liable to be chidden by her lord.

But the Duke was on this particular evening debating high subjects in the House of Lords, and the Duchess was amusing herself.  Sir Wilfrid Bury, who arrived not long after his goddaughter, found her the centre first of a body-guard of cousins, including among them apparently a great many handsome young men, and then of a small crowd, whose vaguely smiling faces reflected the pleasure that was to be got, even at a distance, out of her young and merry beauty.

Julie Le Breton was not with her.  But in the next room Sir Wilfrid soon perceived the form and face which, in their own way, exacted quite as much attention from the world as those of the Duchess.  She was talking with many people, and, as usual, he could not help watching her.  Never yet had he seen her wide, black eyes more vivid than they were to-night.  Now, as on his first sight of her, he could not bring himself to call them beautiful.  Yet beautiful they were, by every canon of form and color.  No doubt it was something in their expression that offended his own well-drilled instincts.

He found himself thinking suspicious thoughts about most of the conversations in which he saw her engaged.  Why was she bestowing those careful smiles on that intolerable woman, Lady Froswick?  And what an acquaintance she seemed to have among these elderly soldiers, who might at all times be reckoned on at Lady Hubert’s parties!  One gray-haired veteran after another recalled himself to her attention, got his few minutes with her, and passed on smiling.