"That's good. I like a nimble wit." He was plainly amused. "But my party isn't young, you know. It is as old as Esau and Jacob. Oh, yes, I've read my Bible. I was brought up on it."
"That is why your speech is so direct," she said when he paused, concluding slowly after a minute, "and so sincere."
"You feel that I am sincere?"
She met his eyes gravely. "Doesn't every one?"
He laughed shortly. "Ah, you know better than that!"
"Well, my father does. He says that it is your sincerity that makes you resemble me."
To her surprise he did not laugh at this. "Do I resemble you?" he asked simply.
"Father thinks so. He says that people won't take us seriously because we tell them the truth."
An impression drifted like smoke across the blue of his eyes. Who was it, she wondered, who had said that his eyes were gray? "Don't they take you seriously?" he asked.
"As a woman, yes. As a human being, no."