Indeed, the young husband had
found himself somewhat nervous in regard to Stacy's estimate of Kitty;
he was conscious that she was not looking and acting like the old Kitty
that Stacy had known; it did not enter his honest heart that Stacy had,
perhaps, not appreciated her then, and that her present quality might
accord more with his worldly tastes and experience. It was, therefore,
with a kind of timid delight that he saw Stacy apparently enter into her
mood, and with a still more timorous amusement to notice that he
seemed to sympathize not only with her, but with her half-rallying,
half-serious attitude towards his (Barker's) inexperience and
simplicity. He was glad that she had made a friend of Stacy, even in
this way. Stacy would understand, as he did, her pretty willfulness at
last; she would understand what a true friend Stacy was to him. It was
with unfeigned satisfaction that he followed them in to dinner as she
leaned upon his guest's arm, chatting confidentially. He was only uneasy
because her manner had a slight ostentation.
The entrance of the little party produced a quick sensation throughout
the dining-room. Whispers passed from table to table; all heads were
turned towards the great financier as towards a magnet; a few guests
even shamelessly faced round in their chairs as he passed. Mrs. Barker
was pink, pretty, and voluble with excitement; Stacy had a slight mask
of reserve; Barker was the only one natural and unconscious.
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