"It does my heart good to see you, Lily! Such a lovely house, and such a splendid husband to take care of you. You're a lucky child."
And Philip:
"This is all very charming, my little pet. You should be very happy and—and thankful."
"Yes, Father."
It did not strike either of them, as Lily made her dutiful response, that even if she had not been happy, it never would have occurred to her to tell her father so.
The months slipped by, and it was a matter of rather pleased surprise to the naïveté of Nicholas Aubray's wife that she and her husband were not confronted by that picturesque episode famed in both art and literature as the First Quarrel.
Cousin Ethel had certainly warned her that there would be "ups and downs," and Lily had taken it for granted that these included occasional minor dissensions between her husband and herself.
"Do you know that Nicholas and I have never had a single quarrel?" she observed to Dorothy Hardinge.
"I shouldn't think anybody would ever dare to quarrel with him. Frank and I have had one."
There was so much of a rather melancholy pride in the announcement that Lily felt justified in enquiring further.