In her agony she wrote to her old friend Julia Triplex, now the wife of Sir Damask Monogram.  She had been really intimate with Julia Triplex, and had been sympathetic when a brilliant marriage had been achieved.  Julia had been without fortune, but very pretty.  Sir Damask was a man of great wealth, whose father had been a contractor.  But Sir Damask himself was a sportsman, keeping many horses on which other men often rode, a yacht in which other men sunned themselves, a deer forest, a moor, a large machinery for making pheasants.  He shot pigeons at Hurlingham, drove four-in-hand in the park, had a box at every race-course, and was the most good-natured fellow known.  He had really conquered the world, had got over the difficulty of being the grandson of a butcher, and was now as good as though...