"You imagine things, my child," he scoffed. "I would have to have proof--and then if it all should be as you say. Why, that brooch must be yours--for I know that it is out of real love for me that you talk, and I always pay lavishly for--love." "Indeed, you know that I adore you, Stepan--and that brooch is just what I want. Stanislass has been niggardly beyond words to me lately, and I am tired of all my other things." "Bring me some proof to the reception to-night. I am not dining, but I shall be there by eleven for a few moments." She agreed, and then rose to go--but she pouted again and the convex _obstine_ curve below her under lip seemed to obtrude itself. "She has gone back to England--your precious bride--I suppose?" "She has." "We shall all meet there in a week or so--Stanislass is going to see some of his boring countrymen in London--the conference you know about--and we have taken a house in Grosvenor Square for some months. I do not know many people yet--will you see to it that I do?" "I will see that you have as many of these handsome Englishmen as will completely keep your hands full." She laughed delightedly. "But it is women I want; the men I can always get for myself." "Fear nothing, your reception will be great." Then she flung herself into his arms and embraced him, and then moved towards the door. "I will telephone to Cartier in the morning," and Verisschenzko opened the door for her, "if you bring me some interesting proof of your love for me--to-night." And when she had gone he took up his letter again and looked at the address, _To_ Lady Ardayre, _Ardayre Chase, North Somerset, Angleterre_. "I must keep to the things of the spirit with you, precious lady. And when I cannot subdue it, there is Harietta for the flesh--wough! but she sickens me--even for that!" CHAPTER VI Denzil Ardayre could not get any more leave for a considerable time and remained quartered in the North, where he played cricket and polo to his heart's content, but the head of the family and his charming wife went through the feverish season of 1914 in the town house in Brook Street. Ardayre was too far away for week-end parties, but they had several successful London dinners, and Amaryllis was becoming quite a capable hostess, and was much admired in the world. Very fine of instinct and apprehension at all times she was developing by contact with intelligent people--for John had taken care that she only mixed with the most select of his friends. The de la Paule family had been more than appreciative of her and had guided her and supervised her visiting list with care. Everything was too much of a rush for her to think and analyse things, and if she had been asked whether she was happy, she would have thought that she was replying with honesty when she affirmed that she was. John was not happy and knew it, but none of his emotions ever betrayed themselves, and the mask of his stolid content never changed.