He found Barbara sitting in her white dressing-gown, arranging her hair before the looking-glass. Her face was very white, her eyelids a little red and puffed, and her lips were tightly pressed together. She took no notice of the opening of the door, but went calmly on with her toilet. Frank was a little disconcerted by this; he had calculated on a tender look of recognition, a few smothered words of explanation, and a final tableau in each other's arms. But as Barbara, with the greatest serenity, still appeared completely immersed in the intricate plaiting evolutions she was performing with a piece of her hair and a stalwart hair-pin, Frank advanced gently, and standing behind her chair, touched her shoulder, and said softly, "Darling!" There was no reply; but the hands occupied in the plaiting manoeuvre perhaps shook a little. "My darling," repeated Frank, "won't you notice me?" "Were you speaking to me?" asked Barbara in an icy voice, and looking up at him with a calm rigid blank face. "To whom else should I be speaking? to whom else should I apply that term?" "Really I can't say. The last time you spoke to me, you were good enough to swear; and as I know you pride yourself on your consistency, I could not imagine you could so soon alter your tone." "No; but, Barbara dearest, you should not throw that in my teeth; you know that I was vexed; that I--" "Vexed, Frank! Vexed! I wonder at you! You accuse me of something utterly untrue, in language such as I have never listened to before; and then, as an excuse, you plead that you were vexed!" "I was foolish, Barbara, headstrong and horrible, and let my confounded temper get the mastery over me; but then, child, you ought to forgive me; for all I did was from excess of love for you. If I did not hang upon every word, every action, of yours, I should be far less exacting in my affection. You should think of that, Barbara." His voice was broken as he spoke, and she noticed that the hand which was upon her chair-back shook palpably. "You _could_ not have meant what you said in the brougham, Frank," said she in a softened tone. "You could not have imagined that I should have permitted--there, I cannot speak of it!" she exclaimed abruptly, placing her handkerchief to her swimming eyes. "No, my darling, I will not. I could not--I never--of course--fool that I am!" and then incoherently, but satisfactorily, the question was dismissed.