The Duchess of Clonarty was famous for doing the right thing. Three weeks after the return of Julien and Lady Anne to London, she gave a large dinner-party in their honor. At a quarter past eight, a telephone message from the House of Commons was received, explaining that Sir Julien would be ten minutes late, owing to his having to speak at greater length than he had first intended upon the Agdar question. Lady Anne was waiting for him, and they would arrive together certainly within a quarter of an hour. The Duchess made every use of her opportunity. She was at her very best during that brief period which ensued while they waited for the delayed guests.

"You know, my dear Lady Cardington," she explained, raising her voice a little to indicate that this was not entirely a confidence, "I never dreamed that dear Anne had so much self-confidence and resolution. Even now I have scarcely given up wondering at it. If she had only told me that she was so sincerely attached to Julien, I would never have listened for one moment to that Harbord affair. It was a mistake, of course," she rippled on, "but then one learns so much by one's mistakes. Notwithstanding their wealth, they were most terrible and impossible people. I am sure the association would have been most distasteful to the Duke. Poor Henry used to lock himself in his study when any of them were about the place, and what it would have been if they were really able to call themselves connections, I cannot imagine. You were speaking of the Carraby woman a few minutes ago. My dear Eva! Of course, you have heard about her? Her husband, when he resigned, gave out that he was obliged to go abroad for his wife's health. My dear, his wife had already left him, three days before! She was seen in Paris with Bob Sutherland. I hear the divorce suit is filed. What a terrible woman!"

"A great escape, I am sure, for Sir Julien," Lady Cardington declared.

The Duchess drew a little breath.

"Poor Julien was always so chivalrous," she murmured. "How thankful your dear husband must be to think that at last he has one person in his Cabinet who does command some sort of a following in the country!"

The Duchess delivered her little shaft and moved to the door. Sir Julien and Lady Anne Portel had just been announced. It was almost a family dinner. The Duchess took Julien's arm and drew him into a corner while the others filed past.

"Is it true," she whispered, "that the Carraby woman has bolted?"

Julien nodded.

"I am afraid there isn't a doubt about it," he admitted.

"How are things to-night? Anything new?" she asked.

"Quite calm again," he replied. "The trouble seems to have passed over. Falkenberg's death upset the whole scheme which was brewing against us, whatever it may have been. All the notes which are being interchanged at the present moment are perfectly pacific."

The Duchess sighed.

"After all," she said, "my little visit to Paris was not so wild. I don't think you would ever have found out about Anne but for me."

Julien smiled.

"If I really believed that," he assured her, "and I shall try to, then
I should feel that I owed you more than any person upon the earth."

The dinner was a success. Lady Anne seemed certainly to have developed. She was looking wonderfully handsome, and though her eyes strayed more than once to the end of the table where her husband was sitting, she carried on her share of the conversation with just that trifle of assurance which marks the transition from girlhood to the dignity of marriage. After the women had left, conversation for a few moments was necessarily political. The Duke, who read the Times and the Spectator, and attended every debate in the House of Lords, spoke with some authority.

"I believe," he said firmly, "that we have passed through a crisis greater than any one, even those in power, know of. It is my opinion that Falkenberg was the bitter enemy of this country—that it was he, indeed, who kept alive all that suspicious and jealous feeling of which we have had constant evidences from Berlin. He was dying all the time to make mischief. I am sorry, of course, for his tragical end. On the other hand, I am inclined to believe that his departure from the sphere of politics was the best thing that has happened to this country for many years."

"There is no doubt," Lord Cardington declared, "that he was working hard to estrange France and England. Your letters, Sir Julien, made that remarkably evident."

"'The good that men do lives after them,'" some one quoted, "also the evil. I am afraid it will be some time before France and England are on exactly the same terms."

"I would not be so sure," Julien interposed, setting down his glass. "The politics of Paris are the politics of France, and the spirit of the Parisian is essentially mercurial. Besides, the days of the great alliance draw nearer—the next step forward after the arbitration treaty. Who can doubt that when that is completed, France will embrace the chance of permanent peace?"

The Duke rose to his feet.

"Five minutes only I am allowed, gentlemen," he said. "My wife wants some of us, some of us have to go back to Westminster. I shall ask you, therefore, before we separate, as this is in some respects an occasion, to drink to the health of my son-in-law, Sir Julien Portel. Though a politician of the old type, I do not fail to appreciate what we owe to the new school. I am a reader of the old-fashioned newspapers, but I recognize the fact that the modern Press sometimes exercises a new and wonderful function in politics. It is my opinion that by means of this modern journalism Sir Julien Portel has maintained the peace of the world. I ask you, therefore, not only as my private friends and relatives, but as politicians, to drink to-night to the health of my son-in-law."

They all rose.

"And with that toast," Lord Cardington added, as he bowed toward Julien, "let me associate the fervent pleasure felt by all of us in welcoming back once more the colleague to whom we have so many reasons to be thankful."

The party broke up soon afterwards. Lady Anne drove back with her husband to Westminster. She sat by his side in the closed car which had been her father's wedding present. Her hands, linked together, were passed through his arm. She was a very well satisfied woman.

"Julien," she declared, "it's lovely to be back here, but I wouldn't have been without those few weeks in Paris for anything in the world. I don't think we can ever get back down into the bottom of the ruts, do you?"

"If ever we feel like it," he answered, smiling, "we'll cross the Channel again, and take Mademoiselle Janette with us and seek for more adventures."

"Lovely!" she exclaimed. "I shall hold you to that, mind."

"No need," he replied. "Kendricks is going to stay there as correspondent for the Post. We must go and see him occasionally. There is no one who understands better the temperament of the Parisian than he."

"There will be no more Herr Freudenberg to circumvent," she remarked.

"Paris always has its problems," he answered. "Kendricks realizes that.
The plotting of the world takes place within a mile of Montmartre."

They were nearing Westminster. Julien drew his wife towards him and kissed her.

"I shall only be about twenty minutes, dear," he suggested. "Why not wait?"

"Of course," she replied. "I have a little electric lamp here, and a book. I'd love to."

Julien walked blithely into the House. Lady Anne turned on the lamp, drew out her book, and leaned back among the cushions with a deep sigh of content.

* * * * *

That same night, wandering around Paris, Kendricks met Monsieur,
Madame, and Mademoiselle.

"It is the gallant Englishman!" mademoiselle exclaimed.

"It is the gentleman who ate both portions of chicken!" madame cried, clapping her hands.

It was a veritable meeting. Kendricks willingly joined their little party and sat down with them in the brightly-lit cafe. Monsieur ordered wine.

"The business affairs of monsieur are prospering, I trust?" he said.
"After all, the entente remains."

Kendricks lifted his glass.

"I drink to it!" he exclaimed. "It is the sanest thing to-day in European politics. Drink to it yourself, monsieur, and you, madame, and you, mademoiselle. You shall accuse us no longer, we English, of selfishness or stupidity. For what reason, think you, did we order a warship to Agdar and brave the whole wrath of Germany?"

Monsieur held out his hand.

"My friend," he declared, "it was a stroke of genius, that. It was what we none of us expected from any English Minister. It was magnificent. I confess it—it has altered my opinions. I drink with you now, cordially and heartily. I drink to the entente. I believe in it. I am a convert."

Kendricks shook hands with every one solemnly. He shook hands last with mademoiselle, and forgot to release her little fingers for several moments.

"Tell us of your friend, monsieur?" madame asked politely.

But Kendricks did not hear! He was whispering in mademoiselle's ear. Her dark eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth, her pretty lips were parted, a most becoming flush of color was in her cheeks. Monsieur looked at madame and winked. Madame smiled, well pleased.

"L'entente!" monsieur murmured.

Madame nodded.

*****

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