"Nobles?" Gerard asked again.
The blond man became wary, remained silent for a moment, and reluctantly nodded.
"Exile?" Gerard continued asking.
This time, the blond man didn't answer. He gave a noncommittal smile, "Sir, are you trying to marry your daughter to me?"
At the mention of Scarlett, a myriad of sorrows engulfed Gerard's heart, and he couldn't help but sigh deeply, "Alas, only if she is willing."
The blond man, hearing the old Dusack's words, picked up the wine bottle and poured half a glass for him, as well as for himself, "Your daughter is very lucky to have a father like you."
"You're mistaken, young man," Gerard said wistfully, "for a father, a daughter is the most precious gift bestowed by the Lord."
The blond man's face unconsciously showed a hint of a bitter smile, "Perhaps, that's how it is."
"To every good father," Gerard raised his glass.
The blond man also raised his glass, "To every good father."
