Nevertheless, she was touched by his kindness, and by the new pride in her, which she divined in his frequent, half-surreptitious glances at her and occasional wistful smiles.
Very soon she found courage to mention that which she well knew that they both had in mind: the coming of Nicholas Aubray.
"You remember Aunt Clo's friend, that I told you about, Father?" Thus Lily, feeling unaccountably deceitful in so describing Nicholas, although she knew that Philip knew the exact relation in which Nicholas stood, both to Aunt Clo and to herself, and also that he knew her to be quite aware of his knowing.
Such strange and silent interplays of knowledge were uncomfortably frequent in association with Philip Stellenthorpe.
"I mean Mr. Aubray. I think he might rather like to come and—and see us, if you wouldn't mind."
"Not at all," said Philip graciously. "Your friend is quite a distinguished man, my dear child. Did your Aunt Clo speak to you of his career as a barrister?"
"A little."
"Curiously enough, I recently came across a very striking little pamphlet of his on the subject of the Shipping Law. It is a good deal too technical for a woman, but I found it of great interest, and was much struck by the style in which it was written."
Lily was principally conscious of a secret increase of self-esteem because Philip, indirectly, had spoken of her as a woman.
Such small and subtle appeals to vanity gave greater titillation to her spirits than did the anticipation of again meeting Nicholas.