o rich a woman for me to think of, Watson," he said, with a
laugh.

This was said on board the barque when they were at dinner, and Mose,
the steward promptly imparted it to Toea when she one day came to look
at the new ship, and Toea of course repeated it to her mistress, who
said nothing but smiled wisely.

Leaving his hotel Barry drove to Mrs. Tracey's apartments in Macquarie
Street, where she soon joined him, looking very charming in a dainty
evening dress of yellow silk.

"How do I look, Captain Barry of the barque _Arrecifos_?" she inquired.

"As beautiful as the barque _Arrecifos_ herself," answered Barry
promptly, "and no more beautiful ship was ever launched."

"Oh, how nice of you to pay me such a compliment!" she laughed as a
vivid blush dyed her face. "I really wish Mr. Watson were here to see
me too; for he, too, has been ministering to my woman's vanity. He
says quite a lot of nice things to me, the dear old fellow."

"Yes, I know he admires you intensely," laughed Barry, "and he makes no
secret of it either. He's as simple as a child in some things, but as
honest as the day."

In a few minutes they reached the theatre, just in time to see the
curtain rise on the first act of "King John." The play was one which
interested them both, and until the end of the first act neither of
them troubled to look about them. Then Barry, turning to speak to his
companion, pointed out to her on the opposite side of the house a
striking figure of an old man with white hair--the premier of the
colony.

"Yes, I see him; what a fine, powerful face!"

Barry for the moment made no answer, for suddenly he found himself
looking into the pale face of a tall, slenderly built woman seated
beside a man he knew--old, white-mustached and of a generally military
cut. He dropped his eyes at once and turned his head quickly away, but
not so quickly that Mrs. Tracey saw his forehead mantle momentarily.

"Poor little Rose," he thought, "I'm glad she didn't see me." Then he
saw that Mrs. Tracey, who was looking straight before her, seemed to
have suddenly become white.

"Are you not feeling well?" he asked; "the theatre is very hot."

She gave him a swift, penetrating glance. "It is very hot," she said
in a low voice. "Do you mind if we leave?"

"Frankly, no," and Barry stroked his beard, and something like a smile
came into his eyes; "I don't particularly care about staying." Then he
bent his head closer. "There a