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.  It was odd how many things he did not quite understand now about Kitty, but that he knew must be his fault.  But Mrs. Barker apparently did not require, after the fashion of her sex, a reply.  For the next moment, as they moved towards their rooms, she said impatiently, “Well, you don’t tell what Stacy said.  Did you get the money?”

I grieve to say that this soul of truth and frankness lied—­only to his wife.  Perhaps he considered it only lying to himself, a thing of which he was at times miserably conscious.  “It wasn’t necessary, dear,” he said; “he advised me to sell my securities in the bank; and if you only knew how dreadfully busy he is.”

Mrs. Barker curled her pretty lip.  “It doesn’t take very long to lend ten thousand dollars!” she said.  “But that’s what I always tell you.  You have about made me sick by singing the praises of those wonderful partners of yours, and here you ask a favor of one of them and he tells you to sell your securities!  And you know, and he knows, they’re worth next to nothing.”

“You don’t understand, dear”—­began Barker.

“I understand that you’ve given your word to poor Harry,” said Mrs. Barker in pretty indignation, “who’s responsible for the Ditch purchase.”

“And I shall keep it.  I always do,” said Barker very quietly, but with that same singular expression of face that had puzzled Stacy.  But Mrs. Barker, who, perhaps, knew her husband better, said in an altered voice:—­

“But how can you, dear?”

“If I’m short a thousand or two I’ll ask your father.”

Mrs. Barker was silent.  “Father’s so very much harried now, George.  Why don’t you simply throw the whole thing up?”

“But I’ve given my word to your cousin Henry.”

“Yes, but only your word.  There was no written agreement.  And you couldn’t even hold him to it.”

Barker opened his frank eyes in astonishment.  Her own cousin, too!  And they were Stacy’s very words!

“Besides,” added Mrs. Barker audaciously, “he could get rid of it elsewhere.  He had another offer, but he thought yours the best.  So don’t be silly.”