Her glance was freer, but not as frank as in those days.

Her dress was undoubtedly richer and more stylish; yet Barker's loyal heart often reverted fondly to the chintz gown, coquettishly frilled apron, and spotless cuffs and collar in which she had handed him his coffee with a faint color that left his own face crimson.
Captain Heath's tact being equal to her indifference, he had excused himself, although he was becoming interested in this youthful husband.
But Mrs.Barker, after having asserted her husband's distinction as the equal friend of the millionaire, was by no means willing that the captain should be further interested in Barker for himself alone, and did not urge him to stay.

As he departed she turned to her husband, and, indicating the group he had passed the moment before, said:-- "That horrid woman has been staring at us all the time.

I don't see what you see in her to admire." Poor Barker's admiration had been limited to a few words of civility in the enforced contact of that huge caravansary and in his quiet, youthful recognition of her striking personality.

But he was just then too preoccupied with his interview with Stacy to reply, and perhaps he did not quite understand his wife.