lady in a muslin gown and elaborate hat held out both her hands to him.
In the darkened light of the room she might very well have passed for a
younger and less serious edition of her own daughter.

"My dear Julien!" she exclaimed, in a tone which was manifestly
sympathetic. "This is terrible news we are hearing about you. But what
an odd time you have chosen to come and tell us all about it!"

"I have not come to tell you all about it, Duchess," Julien assured
her. "The newspapers will tell you everything that is worth knowing.
They are so much better informed."

"The newspapers sometimes exaggerate," she objected.

"In my case," he replied, "I do not think that exaggeration is
possible. Everything has happened to me that could possibly happen to
any one in my unfortunate position."

"You mean that these stories are all true, then?"

"Every one of them. I really don't suppose that I ought to show my face
here at all. I have simply come to say good-bye. There is just a single
word that I want to say to Anne."

"Tell me, Julien," she demanded, "you really did write that letter to
Mrs. Carraby?"

"I did."

"And she gave it to her husband?"