XIV
It was a surprise to Lily Aubray to learn, while she was still upon her honeymoon, that her husband considered her to have been a spoilt child in the house of her father.
He did not in the least make this a subject of reproach, but humorously took it for granted.
"You were probably much too pretty not to spoil," said he.
The accusation mortified Lily.
"But I really don't think I was particularly spoilt, Nicholas. Not after Mother died, anyway. Father was rather strict about a good many things. I was not allowed sweets, for instance, and hardly ever saw any other children, and never went to parties. And you know how particular he is—and always was—about manners."
"Too particular," said Nicholas significantly. "He never scolded you, I suppose?"
"Not exactly."
"Just let you see when you'd done the wrong thing, eh? That's the trouble, my dear. A little wholesome criticism would have made you much less thin-skinned. It's a great pity there's so much difference in age between you and Kenneth. You've practically been an only child since you were ten years old."