"I don't care anything about Cliff, daddy. I don't care what he thinks or
does, if he will only let Wayland alone."
"See here, daughter, you do seem to be terribly interested in this
tourist."
"He's the finest man I ever knew, father."
He looked at her with tender, trusting glance. "He isn't your kind,
daughter. He's a nice clean boy, but he's different. He don't belong in
our world. He's only just stopping here. Don't forget that."
"I'm not forgetting that, daddy. I know he's different, that's why I like
him." After a pause she added: "Nobody could have been nicer all through
these days than he has been. He was like a brother."
McFarlane fixed a keen glance upon her. "Has he said anything to you? Did
you come to an understanding?"
Her eyes fell. "Not the way you mean, daddy; but I think he--likes me.
But do you know who he is? He's the son of W. W. Norcross, that big
Michigan lumberman."