"I think of you as being of my own age," she exclaimed quickly, "or else just a little bit older, so as to be able to help me about things, and—and advise me sometimes."
"That's very sweet and dear of you to say that. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it——" said Nicholas, with the abrupt huskiness of tone of a man easily moved to emotion.
Suddenly he laid one of his hands very gently over Lily's, with a tentative, almost timid, gesture.
She knew that his sensitiveness would be instantly hurt by the least gesture of withdrawal, even though he was giving her the opportunity of making one.
Tenderness for his feelings, a half-frightened desire to see what would follow, and a certain exultant vanity, kept her motionless.
Subconsciously, there passed through her a regret, of which she failed to catch the significance, that it had always been physically distasteful to her to be touched. She accepted the dislike as being part of an inevitable state of affairs not susceptible to alteration.
"You didn't mind my doing that, did you?" said Nicholas nervously.
He had taken his hand away, after a prolonged, gentle pressure upon hers.
Lily shook her head.
She could not have given with truth either a negative or an affirmative answer, nevertheless she was relieved at Nicholas Aubray's exclamation: