On her side the sentiment was different.  She respected Barwood for fine traits and was grateful for his many kindnesses to her.  But certain peculiar moods of his made her uncomfortable.  His interest also was too much occupied with books, speculations about the anomalies and problems of life, and similar serious matters.  She found it wearisome and often difficult to follow him.  She admired such things, but had not as much head for them as he gave her credit for.  Her taste was more practical, commonplace, and cheerful.  She was satisfied with people and things in their ordinary aspects.

She got on much better with Mars Brown, exchanging comments with him upon the affairs of her friends and his, discussing the last party and the next wedding, or laughing at his drollery.  She confessed her stupidity and frivolity with charming frankness.

Barwood was conscious that he did not always interest her, although she never showed anything but the most ladylike attention.  He often went away lamenting the destiny that had fashioned his nature to run in so small and rigid a groove.  His happiness, therefore, did not consist in being with her, for then he was oppressed by a consciousness of not entirely pleasing her.  It was rather in retrospect, in his memory of her sweet and earnest face, the tones of her voice, the shine of her hair.  He gave her such small gifts as he might within the restraints of social propriety.  It would have consisted with his notion of the fitness of things to give her everything he had and leave himself a beggar.

Barwood rode to Holbrook to-day with a definite purpose.  He was aware, although, as Porto Rico said, both gentlemen did not come on the same day, that Mars Brown was devoting more attention in this direction of late than the exigencies of his boat and ball clubs, his shooting and fishing, and the claims of the social world in town would seem to warrant.  He did not yet really fear him as a rival.  His presence was only a suggestion of possibilities.  There might at some time be rivals.  He had determined to forestall possibilities, and tell her of his affection at once.

Mars Brown was, however, a dangerous rival, although himself perhaps as little aware of it as Barwood.  He also had met Nina and been impressed by her animated beauty.  Accustomed to success, he had ridden out to Holbrook to add one more to his list of flirtations and conquests.  The results had by no means answered his expectations.  When he approached sentiment Nina laughed at him.  By degrees he had been piqued into earnestness, and had for the first time in his life approximated to a serious esteem and attachment.

Although Nina laughed at first, later on she sometimes blushed at his voice or his step, or when she put her hand into his.  If his customary shrewd vision had not been disturbed by some unusual influences at work within himself, he would have seen it.

He had the audacity that charms women, and with it a frank, open face, a hearty laugh, an entirely healthy, cheerful disposition, and an air of strength under all his frivolity.