"I—I suppose I'm not used to hearing those things talked about," she stammered. "I've never been told anything—I'm not even sure that I know what 'illegitimate' means, exactly."
"Philip's child—Philip's child!" almost moaned Aunt Clo. "I might have guessed it! He would never face life himself, and he brings up his child to suppose that ignorance means innocence. Oh, horrible!"
She shuddered and almost sprang from her seat. "Come out under the starlight, my child—you want no fruit? That's right—you and I must have some talk."
Lily felt ashamed of the irrepressible feeling of disappointment with which she followed Miss Stellenthorpe, whirled away from her beautiful untasted plateful of ripe figs.
But, of course, illegitimacy was not a subject to be discussed over dessert.
Aunt Clo, however, said nothing more about illegitimacy. She began instead to tell Lily how, long ago, she had solemnly warned Philip and Eleanor that they were refusing to face Truth; to look at facts as they were.
"It was about the poor little Yvonne. She would have been saved, if they had brought themselves to acknowledge her weakness, instead of trying to persuade themselves and the world that she was like other children. Let me see—you were two years younger—but you can remember?"
"Yes," said Lily rather curtly.
Vonnie had been so seldom mentioned, since her death, and then always in such consecrated phrases that Lily felt Aunt Clo's outspokenness almost as an indecency.
"Aha! nous avons changé tout cela—but when you were mites together, I remember very well how superior you thought yourself to poor little Vonnie. Hardly your fault, child—you were the favourite. They never disguised it, although, of course, they never would acknowledge it, in so many words. Ah, quel système!"