She drew comfort, besides, from the thought that whatever her friend might think of Captain Barstow and Walter Hine, her father at all events would impress him, even as she had been impressed.

Chayne would see at once that here was a man head and shoulders above his companions, finer in quality, different in speech.
But that afternoon her humiliation was to be complete.

Her father had no fancy for the intrusion of Captain Chayne into his quiet and sequestered house.

The flush of color on his daughter's face, the leap of light into her eyes, had warned him.

He had no wish to lose his daughter.