at the least, if not the bitterest disillusions; but there was no one to
throw cold water on her hopes, and she filled the air with castles of
every style of architecture that her fancy suggested, without any
hindrance from doubt or misgiving.

She dressed quickly, in the gayest humour, but with even more care than
she usually bestowed upon her appearance; a subject to which she always
gave the fullest attention.

"Which dress will Mademoiselle wear?" the maid asked her.

"Why, my prettiest, naturally," she replied.

"What, the white one that Mademoiselle wore for the marriage of Monsieur,
her papa?" inquired Therese, scandalized at the idea of such a precious
garment being put on before breakfast.

"That very one," Juliet assured her, undaunted; and was arrayed in it, in
spite of obvious disapproval.

After breakfast they went out, and, inquiring their way to Bond Street,
flattened their noses against the shop windows to their mutual
satisfaction.

They had it almost to themselves, for there were not many people left in
that part of London; but more than one head was turned to gaze at the
pretty girl in the garden-party dress, who stood transfixed before shop
after shop. This amusement lasted till half-past eleven, when they
returned to the hotel for Juliet to give the final pats to her hair, and
to retilt her hat to an angle possibly more becoming, before she started