‘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, and turned back.
‘I didn’t think this kind of thing was in your way,’ he said gruffly. ‘I thought you were above it.’