Why should he look so sad, when they were so happy? She thought of loving things he had said to her at dinner--and then the afterwards!--and she thrilled with emotion. Life seemed a glorious thing and--But John was sad, of course, because he must go away. The recollection of this fact came upon her suddenly like a blast of cold air. They must part. War hung there with its hideous shadow, and John must be conscious of it even in his dreams, that was why he sighed. The irony of things--now--when--Oh! how cruel that he must go. Then John awoke with a shudder, and saw her there leaning over him with a new soft love light in her eyes, and he realised that the anguish of his calvary had only just begun. She was perfectly exquisite at breakfast, a fresh and tender graciousness radiated in her every glance; she was subtle and captivating, teasing him that he had been so silent in the night. "Why wouldn't you talk to me, John? But it was all divine, I did not mind." Then she became full of winsome ways and caresses, which she had hitherto been too timid to express; and every fond word she spoke stabbed John's heart. Could she not come and stay somewhere near so as to be with him while he was in training? It was unbearable to remain alone. But he told her that this would be impossible and that she must go back to Ardayre. "I will get leave, if there is a chance, dear little girl." "Oh! John, you must indeed." After he had gone out to the War Office, she sang as she undid a bundle of late roses he had sent her from Soloman's, on his way. She must herself put them in water; no servant should have this pleasing task. Was it the thought of the imminence of separation which had altered John into so dear a lover? She went over his words there in the library. She relived the joy of his sudden fierce kiss, when he had said that he must teach her as to what her emotions meant. Ah! how good to learn, how all glorious was life and love! "Sweetheart," the word rang in her ears. He had never called her that before! Indeed, John rarely ever used any term of endearment, and never got beyond "Dear" or "Darling" before. But now it was an exquisite remembrance! Just the murmured word "Sweetheart!" whispered softly again and again in the night. John came back to lunch, but two of the de la Paule family dropped in also, and the talk was all of war, and the difficulty of getting money at the banks, and how food would go on, and what the whole thing would mean. But over Amaryllis some spell had fallen--nothing seemed a reality, she could not attend to ordinary things, she felt that she but moved and spoke as one still in a dream. The world, and life, and death, and love, were all a blended mystery which was but beginning to unravel for her and drew her nearer to John. The days went on apace.