"Ah, you are an innocent child, Nancy, you don't know much about the world. In the West the men and women all live together like that. They don't consider it improper. Perhaps it's a better way than ours. I should like you to see for yourself; your experience has been very, very limited, my child. Were you afraid of these men?"
Nancy did not notice how subtly her father had shifted from innocuous generalities to a very particular question.
"Oh no, I was not afraid of them. They were very kind and helped us so much."
Herrick smiled.
"Yes," he resumed, "they did impress me as quite kind and gentle in their manners, especially Mr. Beresford; he seemed a very clever young man and talked in a most entertaining manner. I am not so sure about the other, what was his name—Mr.—er, Mr.—"
"Nasmith," volunteered Nancy rather overpromptly.
"That's right, Nasmith, Mr. Nasmith. Mr. Nasmith, I thought, was a little stupid; he didn't say much."
Nancy took the bait instantly.
"Oh no, he's not stupid," she averred, "not at all stupid. He is really kinder, more thoughtful, than Mr. Beresford."
"Oh," said Herrick, after a pause, "and since when have daughters known more than their fathers?"