"But I can't, papa. I just can't. I know it's terrible, this last minute, but—but—I tell you—I can't."
"My God, Ben!"
"Can't what, Lilly?"
"Can't! I never had such a funny—a terrible feeling. I can't explain it, only let me off. Please! It's not too late. Lots of girls have done it—found out at the last minute they couldn't—"
"My God! What are we to do, Ben? Ben!"
"Carrie, if only you will hold your horses I'll handle this." He mopped off his face hurriedly, sliding into a dressing gown.
"Come now, Lilly, into the front room. Sit down."
She moved after him with the rather groping look of the blind.
"Now what is this nonsense, Lilly, you've been hinting these last few days?"
"I've made a mistake, papa. I should have said so weeks—ago—from the start. It isn't Albert's fault. It isn't anybody's fault. I've had it all along, this queer feeling all through the engagement and parties, but I kept hoping for your sakes I'd get over it—hoping—in vain—"