"I told your aunt, when we had our talk together the other day, how very much I should like to be allowed to hear from you," he said quietly, "and she was good enough to suggest that I might propose it to you. So it only depends upon you, now."
Something chivalrous in the words and manner alike sent a rush of affection and gratitude through Lily's being.
At such moments she felt that nothing was wanting in her liking for Nicholas Aubray.
"I'm so glad you did that," she said impulsively.
"You don't think I could ever take advantage of your youth and kindness to ask you to do anything that you might for an instant regret later on!" he exclaimed. "I'm not such a skunk as that! No. Thank God, you never would do anything of the kind that some of these modern girls seem to go in for.... That was just one of the things that attracted me to you so awfully—if I may say so."
"You don't think I'm old-fashioned and priggish? I often think I'm not like most other girls—I think I was brought up differently."
"All the better!" cried Nicholas vigorously.
"I'm glad you think it's all the better," said Lily. "Sometimes I—I've felt that I hated being unlike other people."
She glanced at him wistfully, half wondering if he would reassure her, if she confessed to that old, hidden feeling of not being a Real Live Person, but only a pretender.
"I only wish there were more people like you," said Nicholas Aubray. "Some day you must tell me all about your bringing-up, and why you think it's made you different. Will you?"