tainly stay half the afternoon with your
old partner, considering that you haven't met for three years."

There was no doubt she HAD thought so; there was equally no doubt that
the conversation she was carrying on with her companion--a good-looking,
portly business man--was effectually interrupted. But Barker did not
notice it. "Captain Heath, my husband," she went on, carelessly rising
and smoothing her skirts. The captain, who had risen too, bowed vaguely
at the introduction, but Barker extended his hand frankly. "I found
Stacy busy," he said in answer to his wife, "but he is coming to dine
with us to-night."

"If you mean Jim Stacy, the banker," said Captain Heath, brightening
into greater ease, "he's the busiest man in California. I've seen
men standing in a queue outside his door as in the old days at the
post-office. And he only gives you five minutes and no extension. So
you and he were partners once?" he said, looking curiously at the still
youthful Barker.

But it was Mrs. Barker who answered, "Oh yes! and always such good
friends. I was awfully jealous of him." Nevertheless, she did not
respond to the affectionate protest in Barker's eyes nor to the laugh of
Captain Heath, but glanced indifferently around the room as if to
leave further conversation to the two men. It was possible that she was
beginning to feel that Captain Heath was as de trop now as her husband
had been a moment before. Standing there, however, between them both,
idly tracing a pattern on the carpet with the toe of her slipper, she
looked prettier than she had ever looked as Kitty Carter. Her slight
figure was more fully developed. That artificial severity covering
a natural virgin coyness with which she used to wait at table in her
father's hotel at Boomville had gone, and was replaced by a satisfied
consciousness of her power to please. 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