Thus Philip, deriving such comfort as he could from a fictitious optimism.
Lily left it to him, and sought no further to speak of the many things that were in her mind. She had once come very near to hating her father in the bitterness of her youth, and now, with the faint dawn of a better wisdom, she was glad to let the past rest, to know that the future was not in his hands.
Sometimes, but very seldom, Lily reflected upon the possibility of her own death in child-birth.
Rather to her own surprise, she did not want to die. She wanted to see her child, and to remain with it.
"Of course you won't die, my darling," said Nicholas tenderly. "You must stay and look after me, eh, Lily? And you couldn't let the poor little thing be motherless, whichever it is."
"Which do you want, Nicholas?"
"Of course, every man wants a son." Nicholas threw back his shoulders in the old, characteristic way. "But I should love a little girl, Lily, with pretty hair like yours."
He touched her brown hair very softly. Often, now, his caresses were tinged with diffidence, and he was less prodigal of them.
"If you have a girl, Lily, you'll be able to have her always with you. A girl needn't go to school. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes. Only, Nicholas——"