“Daddy dear?”
Nancy’s accent was a little wishful, as she turned her back on the habitant in the courtyard and faced her father by the dressing-table.
“Yes.” The doctor was absently rummaging among his neckties.
“Can’t you spare time to go out with me, this afternoon?”
“Where?”
“Anywhere. Lorette, or Beaumanoir, or even just up and down the city. You really have seen nothing of Quebec, daddy, and I—once in a while I get lonely.”
The doctor dropped his neckties and looked up sharply.
“Lonely, Nancy? I am sorry. Do you want to go home?”
“Oh, no!” The startled emphasis of her accent left no doubt of its truthfulness.
“Then what is it, child?”