His voice held utter bewilderment and incredulity.
"No!" cried Lily passionately.
She found that she was crying.
"I don't hate you, Nicholas. How could I? I'm fond of you, that's just it. I ought never to have married you—it wasn't fair. But oh, Nicholas, I am fond of you!"
The hard lucidity of utterance with which she had confronted him a moment earlier had deserted her. She was crying uncontrollably.
"Whichever way we turn, it all seems hopeless. I can't help making you unhappy—I am fond of you, Nicholas; oh, Nicholas—can't you understand?"
They clung together, and both were weeping.
"Forgive me, my poor darling," he reiterated helplessly.
"No, no—it's for you to forgive me, Nicholas. This thing—this little thing that's happened between you and Doris—it's nothing, I don't care what anybody says—it's not a real thing, and it doesn't matter. It's only pretence if I say it does."
"Lily, don't leave me. I can't do without you. Forgive me! Don't—don't fail me!"