"There, then, you see! What is there to fret about? Nicholas is devoted to you."
"I know."
"And he's your husband, my dear child. You love him."
"I am very fond of him," said Lily slowly. Then she added, speaking more for the relief of words, than with any recollection of her hearer, "It's just because I'm fond of him that I'm so unhappy. I can't give him anything real—I've tried and tried to think that I could, and it's no use—I'm sorry because of him, and I'm sorry because of myself—I've missed the best there is, somehow, and I'm realizing it more and more as I go on, and now I just feel as though I couldn't go on any more. If I wasn't fond of Nicholas, I think I should leave him."
"Don't talk like that—don't say terrible things like that. You don't know what they mean," Philip exclaimed in great agitation. "Don't you know that it's a mortal sin?"
"What is?"
"To let your thoughts turn for a moment, after your solemn marriage vows, to—to any thought of—'for better for worse—till death us do part,' and cleaving to him only——"
"But I shan't go away. I am fond of Nicholas. It would be much easier for me if I weren't," said Lily.
"What do you mean?"
Lily did not seek to explain what she meant. It was scarcely clear even to herself, save that her affection for Nicholas was real of its kind, and therefore must debar her from the drastic and impetuous measures for which her whole undisciplined youth craved.