And he had not mentioned the subject again, but had been very preoccupied during all his three days' visit, which state she could not account for by the fact of the war--Denzil, she knew, was an enthusiastic soldier, and to be going out to fight would naturally be to him a keen joy. What did it all mean? And here was this sweet creature speaking of divine love mysteries and looking up at the portrait of her dull, unattractive husband with melancholy eyes, whereas they had sparkled with interest when Denzil was the subject of conversation! Could she, too, have fallen in love with Denzil in one night at dinner and a journey in the train! It was all very remarkable. They had tea together in the green drawing room, and by that time they had become very good friends. Mrs. Ardayre told Amaryllis of the little old manor home she had in Kent--The Moat, it was called, and of her garden and the pleasure it was to her. "I had about twelve thousand a year of my own, you know," she said, "and ever since Denzil was born I have each year put by half of it, so that when he was twenty-one I was able to hand over to him quite a decent sum that he might be independent and free. It is so humiliating for a man to have to be subservient to a woman, even a mother, and I go on doing the same every year. All the last years of his life my husband was very delicate--he was so badly wounded in the South African War, you know--so we lived very quietly at The Moat and in my tiny house in London. I hope you will let me show you them both one day." Amaryllis said she would be delighted, and added: "You will come and see me, won't you? I am going up to our house in Brook Street at the beginning of April, and I am praying that I may have a little son about the first week in May." Just before Mrs. Ardayre went on to Dorchester, she asked Amaryllis if she had any message to send Denzil--she wanted to watch her face. It flushed slightly and her deep soft voice said a little eagerly: "Yes--tell him I have been so delighted to meet you, and you are just what he said I should find you!--and tell him I sent him all sorts of good wishes--" and then she became a little confused. "I should so love a photograph of you--would you give me one, I wonder?" the elder woman asked quickly, to avoid any pause, and while Amaryllis went out of the room to get it, she thought: "She is certainly in love with Denzil. It could not have been the first time he had seen her--at the dinner--and yet he never tells lies." And she grew more and more puzzled and interested. When Amaryllis was alone after the motor with Mrs. Ardayre in it had departed, an uncontrollable fit of restlessness came over her. The visit had stirred up all her emotions again; she could not grieve any more about the tragedy of John; her whole being was vibrating with thoughts of Denzil and desire for his presence--she could see his face and feel the joy of his kisses.