"Oh! what is it, you poor little darling! what can I do for you?" he exclaimed, unconscious that he had used a word of endearment; but even though things had grown vague for her Amaryllis caught the tenderly pronounced 'darling' and, physically ill as she felt, her spirit thrilled with some agreeable surprise. He came nearer and pushing up the padded divisions between the seats, he lifted her as though she had been a baby and laid her flat down. He got out his flask from his dressing bag and poured some brandy between her pale lips, then he rubbed her hands, murmuring he knew not what of commiseration. She looked so fragile and helpless and the probable reason of her indisposition was of such infinite solicitude to himself. "To think that she is feeling like that because--Ah!--and I may not even kiss her and comfort her, or tell her I adore her and understand." So his thoughts ran. Presently Amaryllis sat up and opened her eyes. She had not actually fainted, but for a few moments everything had grown dim and she was not certain of what had happened, or if she had dreamed that Denzil had spoken a love word, or whether it was true--she smiled feebly. "I did feel so queer," she explained. "How silly of me! I have never felt faint before--it is stupid"--and then she blushed deeply, remembering what certainly must be the cause. "I am going to open the window wide," he said, appreciating the blush, and let it down. "You ought not to sit with your back to the engine like that, let us change sides." He took command and drew her to her feet, and placed her gently in his vacant seat; then he sat down opposite her and looked at her with anxious eyes. "I sit that way as a rule because of avoiding the dust, but, of course, it was that. I am not generally such a goose though--it is the nastiest feeling that I have ever known." "You poor dear little girl," his deep voice said. "You must shut your eyes and not talk now." She obeyed, and he watched her intently as she lay back with her eyes closed, the long lashes resting upon her pale cheeks. She looked childish and a little pathetic, and every fibre of his being quivered with desire to protect her. He had never felt so profoundly in his life--and the whole thing was so complicated. He tried to force himself to remember that he was not travelling with _his_ wife whom he could take care of and cherish because she was going to have _his_ child, but that he was travelling with John's wife whom he hardly knew and must take no more interest in than any Ardayre would in the wife of the head of the family! He could have laughed at the extraordinary irony of the thing, if it had not been so moving. Verisschenzko, had he been there and known the circumstances, would have taken joy in analysing what nature was saying to them both!