It was spoken rather gravely than severely. Mr. Lord never looked
fixedly at his daughter, and even a glance at her face was unusual;
but at this juncture he met her eyes for an instant. The nervous
motion with which he immediately turned aside had been marked by
Nancy on previous occasions, and she had understood it as a sign of
his lack of affection for her.

'I am twenty-three years old, father,' she replied, without
aggressiveness.

'That would be something of an answer if you were a man,' observed
the father, his eyes cast down.

'Because I am a woman, you despise me?'

Stephen was startled at this unfamiliar mode of address. He moved
uneasily.

'If I despised you, Nancy, I shouldn't care very much what you did.
I suppose you must do as you like, but you won't go with my
permission.'

There was a silence, then the girl said:

'I meant to ask Horace to go with us.'

'Horace--pooh!'

Again a silence. Mr. Lord laid down his cup, moved a few steps away,