"I daresay," said Nicholas curtly.
The lengthening of his face indicated that his enthusiasm had been somewhat dashed, and Lily, characteristically, at once sought to efface the unsympathetic colouring that she had purposely given to her words. "I rather wonder she hasn't married. She could have done so easily, I should think."
"Oh, of course she could."
The tone in which he spoke was once more confident and enthusiastic.
"Old Dickenson told me something about that. He said she was the sort of girl men used to look at while she was still in the nursery—although both her sisters are prettier—in fact, as you say, this one isn't exactly good-looking, I suppose. I don't know what it is about her—magnetism, I suppose. Certainly she's attractive. Don't you think so?"
"She's more so to men than to women, I should imagine."
"Perhaps. You women have odd ideas about one another's merits, eh?" He laughed heartily and was still laughing when Doris came into the room.
Nicholas rose and placed a chair for her.
"We were just talking about you. I was telling my wife something about the stiff upper lip you've shown all along. I can tell you," said Nicholas significantly, "she admires pluck as much as I do. Eh, Lily?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Doris.