.

But Barker knew the house better than the most of the guests, and
passing through the little room for which every one seemed fighting, he
drew aside a heavy curtain and showed a small boudoir beyond, lighted
with a solitary branch of candles, and occupied by a solitary couple.
Barker had hoped to find this sanctum empty, and as he pushed two chairs
together he eyed the other pair savagely.

"What a charming little room," said Margaret, sinking into the soft
chair and glancing at the walls and ceiling, which were elaborately
adorned in the Japanese fashion. The chairs also were framed of bamboo,
and the table was of an unusual shape. It was the "Japanese parlour[3],"
as Mrs. Van Sueindell would have called it. Every great house in New
York has a Japanese or a Chinese room. The entire contents of the
apartment having been brought direct from Yokohama, the effect was
harmonious, and Margaret's artistic sense was pleased.

[Footnote 3: Parlour or parlor, American for "sitting-room."]

"Is it not?" said Barker, glad to have brought her to a place she liked.
"I thought you would like it, and I hoped," lowering his voice, "that we
should find it empty. Only people who come here a great deal know about
it."

"Then you come here often?" asked Margaret, to say something. She was
glad to be out of the din, for though she had anticipated some pleasure
from the party, she discovered too late that she had made a mistake, and
would rather be at home. She had so much to think of, since receiving
that telegram; and so, forgetting Barker and everything else, she
followed her own train of thought. Barker talked on, and Margaret seemed
to be listening--but it was not the music, muffled through the heavy
curtains, nor the small voice of Mr. Barker that she heard. It was the
washing of the sea and the creaking of cordage that were in her
ears--the rush of the ship that was to bring him back--that was perhaps
bringing him back already. When would he come? How soon? If it could
only be to-morrow, she would so like to--what in the world is Mr. Barker
saying so earnestly? Really, she ought to listen. It was very rude.
"Conscious of my many defects of character--" Oh yes, he was always
talking about his defects; what next? "--conscious of my many defects of
character," Mr. Barker was saying, in an even, determined voice, "and
feeling deeply how far behind you I am in those cultivated pursuits you
most enjoy, I would nevertheless scorn to