Lily here abruptly turned to him her front face: the light of the skies was becoming dim, but the evening star shone upon it.
"How! what do you mean?"
"Am I to answer politely or truthfully?"
"Truthfully! Oh, truthfully! What is life without truth?"
"Even though one believes in fairies?"
"Fairies are truthful, in a certain way. But you are not truthful.
You were not thinking of fairies when you—"
"When I what?"
"Found fault with me."
"I am not sure of that. But I will translate to you my thoughts, so far as I can read them myself, and to do so I will resort to the fairies. Let us suppose that a fairy has placed her changeling into the cradle of a mortal: that into the cradle she drops all manner of fairy gifts which are not bestowed on mere mortals; but that one mortal attribute she forgets. The changeling grows up; she charms those around her: they humour, and pet, and spoil her. But there arises a moment in which the omission of the one mortal gift is felt by her admirers and friends. Guess what that is."
Lily pondered. "I see what you mean; the reverse of truthfulness, politeness."