"Mother herself says that very few people ever marry their first love," said Janet quite firmly.
This led to a serious conversation with Cousin Ethel.
Lily did not exactly seek it, but she was ready to resign herself to what she supposed to be a necessity.
"You have no mother, poor child."
Ethel spoke the time-honoured cliché very kindly.
"I am glad you are going to be married, Lily. After my own girls, I don't know that any engagement could have given me so much pleasure. Not only for your father's sake—though I'm delighted to see how happy it makes him—but for your own. Oh, my dear, make the most of your time. It's so wonderful to be young, and happy, and in love."
Lily tried to appear responsive, and was angry at the slight self-consciousness that alone possessed her as she tried to contemplate the causes for rejoicing enumerated by Mrs. Hardinge.
"You're a very, very lucky child. He's a man in a thousand, and it's a wonderful thing to have found one another in time. All the nicest men are generally married long before they're anywhere near his age."
"I suppose," said Lily, remembering Janet, "that I oughtn't to expect, perhaps, to be his first love?"
She looked at Mrs. Hardinge, hoping for reassurance.