They had the most affectionate parting. John never was sentimental, and he went off with brave, cheery words, and every injunction that she was to take the greatest care of herself. "Remember, Amaryllis, that you are the most precious thing on earth to me--and you must think also of the child." She promised him that she would carry out all his wishes in this respect and remain quietly at Ardayre until the first of April, when perhaps he could get leave again and then she would go to London for the birth of the baby. John turned and waved his hand as he went off down the avenue, and Amaryllis watched the motor until it was out of sight, the tears slowly brimming over and running down her cheeks. She noticed that at the turn in the avenue a telegraph boy passed the car and came straight on. The wire was not for John evidently, so she would wait at the door to see. It proved to be for her, and from Denzil's mother, saying that she was en route for Dorchester, motoring, and would stop at Ardayre on the chance of finding its mistress at home. Amaryllis felt suddenly excited; she had often longed for this and yet in some way she had feared it also. What new emotions might the meeting not arouse? It was quite early after luncheon that Mrs. Ardayre was announced. Amaryllis had waited in the green drawing room, thinking that she would come. She was playing the piano at the far end to try and lighten her feeling of depression, when the door opened, and to her astonishment quite a young, slight woman came into the room. She was a little lame, and walked with a stick. For a moment Amaryllis thought she must be mistaken, and rose with a vague, but gracious look in her eyes. Mrs. Ardayre held out her hand and smiled: "I hope you got my telegram in time," she said cordially. "I felt I must not lose the opportunity of making your acquaintance. My son has been so anxious for us to meet." "You--you can't be Denzil's mother, surely!" Amaryllis exclaimed. "He is much too old to be your son!" Mrs. Ardayre smiled again--while Amaryllis made her sit down on the sofa beside her and helped her off with her furs. "I am forty-nine years old, Amaryllis--if I may call you so--but one ought never to grow old in body. It is not necessary, and it is not agreeable to the eye!" Amaryllis looked at her carefully in the full side light. It was the shape of her face, she decided, which gave her such youth. There were no unsightly bones to cause shadows and the skin was smooth and ivory--and her eyes were bright brown; their expression was very humorous as well as kindly, and Amaryllis was drawn to her at once. They talked about their desire to know one another and about the family, and the place, and the war--and at last they spoke of Denzil, and Mrs. Ardayre told of what his life was, and his whereabouts now, and then grew retrospective.