"He lives there now. Your mother never spoke to you of him?"
"Never."
"You should be made acquainted with the story, Nansie, while I am here to relate it."
She stopped the current of his speech.
"Father, these last three or four weeks you have dropped hints which make me very anxious; they weigh heavily upon me. I know you are not well, but you harp upon it as if it were a serious illness. Tell me, father."
They were sitting side by side now, and he was smoothing her hair with his hand.
"I am far from well, Nansie."
She interrupted him again, and now spoke with tremulous impetuosity.
"You should take advice, father. You should go to a doctor."
"There are reasons why I do not do so. First, Nansie, I have no money. Figuratively speaking, twopence ha'penny is all my fortune. To be exact, twenty-three shillings represents my worldly wealth. I am afraid I have been unwise, and yet I do not see what else I could have done. This Quixotic wandering of ours--I own it, it is Quixotic--was in a certain measure forced upon me. Poor old Fleming, who owed me money, bequeathed his horse and caravan to me, his only creditor, and then he died. Had he left behind him wife or child I should have transferred to them this delightfully awkward property. Satisfying myself that it was legally and morally mine, the idea entered my head that a wandering tour through our lovely country lanes would invigorate me, would put new life into me. And for a companion, who more sweet than my own dear Nansie!"