He had a fierce impulse to rush out and strip his Charlotte's wedding-clothes from this other bride's back.
"She's gone and given it away, and she hasn't got a good silk dress herself; she's wearing her old cloak to meeting," he half sobbed to himself.

He wondered piteously, thinking of his savings and of his property since his father's death, if he might not, at least, buy Charlotte a new silk dress and a mantilla.

"I don't believe she'd be mad," he said; "but I'm afraid her father wouldn't let her wear it." The more he thought of it the more it seemed as if he could not bear it, unless he could buy Charlotte the silk dress.

"Her clothes ain't as good as mine," he said, and he thought of his best blue broadcloth suit, and his flowered vest and silk hat.

It seemed to him that with all the terrible injury he was doing Charlotte, he also injured her by having better clothes than she, and that that was something which might be set right.
As Barney sat by his window that Sunday afternoon he saw a man coming down the hill.