"He has a head," said papa.
"Yes, sir; out of order."
"How do you estimate Mr. Leypoldt, then? - his head is in order, and a good deal in it."
"Only the truth left out, papa."
"The truth?" said my father. "He is fuller of truth, of all sorts, than any one else I know, Daisy."
"Truth of all sorts, papa, but not the truth. He understands the world, and almost everything in it; but not who made it nor what it was made for; and he knows men; but not their work, or place, or destiny in the universe. He knows what they are; he has no idea what they ought to be, or what they may be."
"He is not a religious man, certainly. Do you carry your principles so far, Daisy, that you mean you would not let anybody approach you who is not of your way of thinking?"
A pang shot through my heart, with the instant sense of the answer I ought to give. I might have evaded the question; but I would not. Yet I could not immediately speak. I was going to put a bond upon myself; and the words would not come.
"Do you mean that, Daisy?" papa repeated. "Seriously. Is it your rule of supposed duty, that a man must be a Christian after your sort, to obtain your favour?"
"Papa," I said struggling, - "one cannot control one's liking."