“Duncan doesn’t like you,” she admitted faintly. “And he has prejudiced mother----” in her desire to avoid Barnard’s glance, she missed seeing the tawney gleam which for a second marred the beauty of his heavily lashed dark eyes. “I can guess the reason for your brother’s dislike,” he admitted grimly. “Perhaps I can remove the cause. His interest in Miss Langdon appears mutual. Hadn’t you better warn your mother to watch those two?” “What do you mean?” She raised startled eyes to his. “How would you like Miss Langdon as a sister-in-law?” Janet sat in dumfounded silence. Even the arrival of their waitress with the chocolate pot, whipped cream, and hot toasted English muffins did not arouse her. Had Barnard supplied her with the key to Duncan’s altered demeanor and Marjorie’s shy, distraite manner? Would her mother accept Marjorie as a daughter-in-law without opposition? Duncan was her idol, and Janet knew she had always planned a most ambitious future for him. “Then the idea doesn’t appeal to you?” questioned Barnard as the waitress retired. “Well, don’t worry; Marjorie has other suitors.” “I am given to understand that you are one of them.” “By some kind friend, I suppose?” But Barnard’s laugh was not as sincere and hearty as he tried to make it. “Did Pauline Calhoun-Cooper also mention that Tom Nichols is one of Marjorie’s suitors?” The spoon Janet held rattled against the side of her cup. “Ah, I thought not,” added Barnard, smiling quietly to himself. “Did the gallant captain never confide to you his admiration for his beautiful cousin?” But Janet was game, notwithstanding her secret anguish. Barnard had indeed opened her eyes, but not in the way he had intended. Quickly she rallied her wits to her aid; she must not let her keen-eyed companion realize the new influence which was dominating her. Ah, love was two-edged; too late, she had divined the gold from the dross. “Captain Nichols has made no secret of his affection for Marjorie,” she retorted coolly. “Why do you seek to prejudice me against him?” “Because I do not approve of your friendship.” “Nonsense; it’s purely platonic.” “There is no such thing between a man and a maid.” Barnard’s tone stirred Janet’s hot anger, but she controlled herself admirably. “You show your youth by advocating such views.” “Do you mean to be insulting?” “Put such an idea instantly out of your mind.” There was stern command in his eyes and voice, and Janet shrank back, frightened by the storm she had provoked. “I should never think of insulting you, I love you too deeply,” his tones vibrated with feeling. “I respect you too highly--but I am jealous, bitterly jealous. I, and I alone, must rule your heart and mind. ‘Thou shalt have no other god but me’!” “Don’t blaspheme!” She cringed back in her chair, and covered her ears with her shaking fingers. “Chichester, Chichester, I have given you no cause for jealousy.”