"No one I know very much about," she acknowledged. "I have selected him in my mind, however as being a typical Englishman of his class. I wish to talk to him, to appreciate his point of view. You know what Paul said when he gave you the appointment and sent us over here: 'Find out for me what sort of men these Englishmen are.'"
"Matinsky should know," her father observed. "He was here twelve years ago. He came over with the first commission which established regular relations with the British Government."
"No doubt," she said equably, "he was able to gauge the official outlook, but this country, during the last ten years, has gone through great vicissitudes. Besides, it is not only the official outlook in which Paul is interested. He doesn't understand, and frankly I don't, the position of what they call over here 'the man in the street.' You see, he must be either a fool, or he must be grossly deceived."
"So far as my dealings with him go, I should never call the Englishman a fool," Karetsky confessed.
"There are degrees and conditions of fools," his daughter declared calmly. "A man with a perfectly acute brain may have simply idiotic impulses towards credulity, and a credulous man is always a fool. Anyhow, I know what Paul wants."
There was a knock at the door. Karetsky opened it and stood aside to let Nigel pass in. Naida held out her hand to the latter with a smile.
"I am so glad that you have come," she said, raising her eyes for a minute to his. "Father, you remember Lord Dorminster?"
The two men exchanged a few commonplace remarks. Then Karetsky reached for his hat.
"Your arrival, Lord Dorminster," he observed, "leaves me free to make a few calls myself. We shall, I trust, meet again."
Nigel murmured a few courteous words and watched the retreating figure with some curiosity.