Roger Barnes "too important" had
called up a flash of colour in the girl's cheeks. But she did not resent
it in words; rather her silence deepened, till Mrs. Verrier stretched
out a hand and laughingly turned the small face towards her that she
might see what was in it.

"Daphne! I really believe you're in love with him!"

"Not at all," said Daphne, her eyelids flickering; "I never know what to
talk to him about."

"As if that mattered!"

"Elsie Maddison always knows what to talk to him about, and he chatters
to her the whole time."

Mrs. Verrier paused a moment, then said: "Do you suppose he came to
America to marry money?"

"I haven't an idea."

"Do you suppose he knows that you--are not exactly a pauper?"

Daphne drew herself away impatiently. "I really don't suppose anything,
Madeleine. He never talks about money, and I should think he had plenty
himself."

Mrs. Verrier replied by giving an outline of the financial misfortunes
of Mr. Barnes _pere_, as they had been described to her by another
English traveller in Washington.

Daphne listened indifferently. "He can't be very poor or he wouldn't
behave as he does. And he is to inherit the General's property. He told
me so."

"And it wouldn't matter to you, Daphne, if you did think a man had
married you for money?"

Daphne had risen, and was pacing the drawing-room floor, her hands
clasped behind her back. She turned a cloudy face upon her questioner.
"It would matter a great deal, if I thought it had been only for money.
But then, I hope I shouldn't have been such a fool as to marry him."

"But you could bear it, if the money counted for something?"

"I'm not an idiot!" said the girl, with energy. "With whom doesn't money
count for something? Of course a man must take money into
consideration." There was a curious touch of arrogance in the gesture
which accompanied the words.

"'How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!--How pleasant it is to
have money,'" said Mrs. Verrier, quoting, with a laugh. "Yes, I dare
say, you'd be very reasonable, Daphne, about that kind of thing. But I
don't think you'd be a comfortable wife, dear, all the same."

"What do you mean?"

"You might allow your husband to spare a little love to your money; you
would be for killing him if he ever looked at another woman!"

"You mean I should be jealous?" asked Daphne, almost with violence. "You
are quite right there. I should be very jealous. On that point I should
'fi