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Posco studied Lily keenly, and he shook his head. "Surprising news, and bad news, I'd think," he said. "It's not nothing, Lily, the lack of colour in your face shows that."
"It... it may be a little bad," she said, after some hesitation, "but nothing very serious. It will be resolved soon."
Now, Posco was a very shy lad, it is admitted, but he was by no means stupid. It was easy to see that the news from home was bad, and that it was bothering Lily. Very easy to see that. Her reaction to it made it obvious. And while he could not boast to know her well, he felt he knew her well enough (well enough to marry her, at least, and that must be rather well), and he was positive that in any circumstance she would tell him the bad news. But she did not want to tell him. Why? Because she was afraid to tell him. Why? Obviously because it concerned him.
"Did your aunt say anything about me, Lily?" he questioned.
"No," she replied.
"Then she said something that concerned me."
"She said nothing about you at all."
Posco sighed, and shook his head again. "Lily, my dear little Lily," said he. "I can't make you show me the letter, or tell me what was in it, but I know it involves me somehow, however indirectly. Indeed, I can't make you and I won't make you. But I'd be awfully glad to hear; I might be shirking some responsibility if I go unaware of it." He paused, and looked earnestly at her. "Perhaps I am wrong," he said, his voice low and musing. "Perhaps it doesn't concern me? But if it does, Lily... you decide what to do about it. Because, you see, it is mostly your business, even if it does concern me a little, and I wouldn't want to interfere."
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