It had all been a sort of accident, probably, Lily reflected. Almost certainly Nicholas, like all weak natures, would feel the instant need of salving his own sense of degradation by making a confession.
Philip was groaning.
"If you had only been more open with me the other day! I had no idea things had gone so far—I thought it was a vague, passing discontent, that meant nothing. But you must have realized even then that he was wronging you in some such terrible way. I could never have believed it, never. However, we mustn't meet trouble halfway, I suppose."
He sighed heavily.
"My poor child, there is at least a remedy open to you, if things are as we fear—though God forbid it should ever come to that."
"What?" asked Lily.
"You can claim your freedom," said her father very low. "There is one cause for which the marriage tie may be dissolved, in the eyes of God."
Lily realized with a shock of astonishment that here was an aspect of the case which actually had not presented itself to her mind.
Divorce.
A second chance! The words flashed through her mind, opening up an illimitable vista of freedom, a sudden, unlooked-for way of escape from that which had appeared unescapable. She had longed wildly and hopelessly for a miracle that would obliterate the years that had elapsed since her marriage to Nicholas Aubray.