"I don't know why it's so difficult to associate some people with death. Cousin Charlie, somehow, seems part of all the things I've always known, all my life. I can't realize he isn't there any more."
Nicholas patted her hand gently.
"You'd like to come down with me for the funeral, wouldn't you? We could stay with your father for a couple of nights, no doubt, and you might be a comfort to those poor girls. They're both at home, of course?"
"Yes. Poor Dorothy, it will be dreadful for her, away in India."
"Yes, that's hard luck!"
Nicholas was very sympathetic and kind, and Lily felt grateful.
She was, as she had said, utterly unable to associate good-natured, commonplace Cousin Charlie Hardinge with the idea of death.
Philip Stellenthorpe met his daughter and son-in-law with an air of appropriate solemnity which, however, was too near to his habitual expression to be greatly noticeable.
"This is a sad business—terribly sudden. I'm glad you've come down—very glad. They'll appreciate that very much."
"How is Cousin Ethel?" said Lily.