“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.”