The mere knowledge that she had never before heard the word mentioned in such a connection by Miss Melody, made Lily blush foolishly.
The headmistress smiled—an omniscient smile. "I thought so—I thought so. Well, Lily, although I haven't married myself, I always advocate marriage for the majority of my girls. Most women are happier in the beaten track, and I don't think you're one of those that are called upon to stand alone. Oh, there's nothing derogatory in that. Marriage is a very high calling, child, and there's a great deal to it—a great deal of responsibility, Lily."
Miss Melody's arch smile underlined the word, as though it had become a catchword, used to denote their dual consciousness of Lily's weakness.
Lily smiled back again, faintly protesting.
"Ah, you don't like that! It's the old bugbear, isn't it? Well, well, childie...." Miss Melody appeared to lose herself in reflectiveness.
The fiction of Lily's dread of responsibility was now firmly established between them.
"If I can give you any advice, or help you in any way, just let me know, dear child. We've had a nice, long talk, and I think it's been helpful to you."
Miss Melody paused so significantly that Lily almost involuntarily said: "Yes, Miss Melody."
"I'm very thankful for that, Lily—very proud and thankful. You must come to me again before the breaking up. Bless you, childie dear."
Lily understood that the interview was at an end.