Canon Alston came one day to solve this problem for him. The Canon had resolved on taking a holiday, and being no lover of solitude in his pleasures, he wished to persuade Maurice to become a grass widower for three weeks.
"Can you let Lily go?" he said. "I know it is a shame to leave you alone, but—"
He stopped, surprised at the sudden brightness that had come into Maurice's usually pale and grave face. Maurice saw his astonishment and hastened to allay it.
"I shall miss Lily of course," he began. "Still, if you want her, and she is anxious to go—"
"I have not mentioned it to her," the Canon said.
And at this moment Lily came into the room. The project was laid before her. She hesitated, looking from her father to her husband. Her perplexity seemed to both the men curiously acute, even to Maurice who was on fire to hear her decision. The prospect of solitude was sweet to his tormented heart now that he was possessed by the fancy that Lily's presence intensified his martyrdom. Yet Lily's obvious disturbance of mind surprised him. The two courses open to her were really so simple that there seemed no possible reason why she should look upon the taking of one of them as a momentous matter.
"Well, Lily, what do you say?" the Canon asked, after a pause. "Will you come with me?"
"But Maurice—"
"Maurice permits it, and I want you."
"I—I had not meant to leave home at present, father, not till after—"