"But you have always avoided any acquaintance with the Grangers, papa," Clarissa said wonderingly. "Yes, yes, naturally. I have shrunk from knowing people who have turned me out of house and home, as it were. But that sort of thing must come to an end sooner or later. I don't want to appear prejudiced or churlish; and in short, though I may never care to cross that threshold, there is no reason Miss Granger and you should not be friendly. You have no one at Arden of your own age to associate with, and a companion of that kind might be useful. Has the girl much influence with her father, do you think?" "She is not a girl, papa, she is a young woman. I don't suppose she is more than two or three-and-twenty, but no one would ever think of calling Miss Granger a girl." "You haven't answered my question." "I scarcely know how to answer it. Mr. Granger seems kind to his daughter, and she talks as if she had a great deal of influence over him; but one does not see much of people's real feelings in a great house like this. It is 'company' all day long. I daresay Mr. and Miss Granger are very fond of one another, but--but--they are not so much to each other as I should like you and me to be, papa," Clarissa added with a sudden boldness. Mr. Lovel coughed, as if something had stuck in his throat. "My dear child, I have every wish to treat you fairly--affectionately, that is to say," he replied, after that little nervous cough; "but I am not a man given to sentiment, you see, and there are circumstances in my life which go far to excuse a certain coldness. So long as you do not ask too much of me--in the way of sentiment, I mean--we shall get on very well, as we have done since your return from school. I have had every reason to be satisfied." This was not much, but Clarissa was grateful even for so little. "Thank you, papa," she said in a low voice; "I have been very anxious to please you." "Yes, my dear, and I hope--nay, am sure--that your future conduct will give me the same cause for satisfaction; that you will act wisely, and settle the more difficult questions of life like a woman of sense and resolution. There are difficult questions to be solved in life, you know, Clary; and woe betide the woman who lets her heart get the better of her head!" Clarissa did not quite understand the drift of this remark, but her father dismissed the subject in his lightest manner before she could express her bewilderment. "That's quite enough serious talk, my dear," he said; "and now give me the _carte du pays_. Who is here besides these Grangers? and what little social comedies are being enacted? Your letters, though very nice and dutiful, are not quite up to the Horace-Walpole standard, and have not enlightened me much about the state of things."