‘I never thought of it,’ pursued Mr. Lord gloomily. ‘I took it for granted that everybody must see those people as I myself did. I have wondered now and then why Nancy kept up any kind of acquaintance with them, but she spoke of them in the rational way, and that seemed enough. I may have thought that they might get some sort of good out of _her_, and I felt sure she had too much sense to get harm from _them_. If it hadn’t been so, I should have forbidden her to know them at all. What have you to say for yourself? I don’t want to think worse of you than I need. I can make allowance for your age, as I said. What do you see in that girl? Just talk to me freely and plainly.’ ‘After all you have said,’ replied Horace, his voice still shaky, ‘what’s the use? You seem to be convinced that there isn’t a single good quality in her.’ ‘So I am. What I want to know is, what good _you_ have found.’ ‘A great deal, else I shouldn’t have asked her to marry me.’ A vein of stubbornness, unmistakable inheritance from Stephen Lord, had begun to appear in the youth’s speech and bearing. He kept his head bent, and moved it a little from side to side. ‘Do you think her an exception in the family, then?’ ‘She’s a great deal better in every way than her sisters. But I don’t think as badly of them as you do.’ Mr. Lord stepped to the door, and out into the passage, where he shouted in his deep voice ‘Nancy!’ The girl quickly appeared. ‘Shut the door, please,’ said her father. All three were now standing about the room. ‘Your brother has brought me a piece of news. It ought to interest you, I should think. He wants to marry, and out of all the world, he has chosen Miss. French--the youngest.’ Horace’s position was trying. He did not know what to do with his hands, and he kept balancing now on one foot, now on the other. Nancy had her eyes averted from him, but she met her father’s look gravely. ‘Now, I want to ask you,’ Mr. Lord proceeded, ‘whether you consider Miss. French a suitable wife for your brother? Just give me a plain yes or no.’ ‘I certainly don’t,’ replied the girl, barely subduing the tremor of her voice. ‘Both my children are not fools, thank Heaven! Now tell me, if you can, what fault you have to find with the “young lady,” as your brother calls her?’ ‘For one thing, I don’t think her Horace’s equal. She can’t really be called a lady.’ ‘You are listening?’ Horace bit his lip in mortification, and again his head swung doggedly from side to side. ‘We might pass over that,’ added Mr. Lord. ‘What about her character? Is there any good point in her?’ ‘I don’t think she means any harm. But she’s silly, and I’ve often thought her selfish.’ ‘You are listening?’ Horace lost patience. ‘Then why do you pretend to be friends with her?’ he demanded almost fiercely. ‘I don’t,’ replied his sister, with a note of disdain. ‘We knew each other at school, and we haven’t altogether broken off, that’s all.’