She saw his blue attractive eyes gazing at her so ardently and some delicious thrill passed through her. But Denzil recovered himself, and leaned back in his seat--while he abruptly changed the conversation by remarking casually: "I have never seen Ardayre. I would love to look at our common ancestors. My father used to say there was an Elizabethan Denzil who was rather like me. I suppose we are all stamped with the same brand." "I know him!" Amaryllis cried delightedly. "He is up at the end of the gallery in puffed white satin and a ruff. Of course, you must come and see him; he has exactly the same eyes." "The whole family are alive I believe--we were a tenacious lot!" "If you and John both get leave at Christmas you must come with him and spend it at Ardayre--I shall have made your Mother's acquaintance by then, and we must persuade her too." He gave some friendly answer--while he felt that John might not endorse this invitation. If the places were reversed, how would he himself act? Difficult as the situation was for him, it was infinitely harder for John. Then the train stopped at Westbury. CHAPTER XII Denzil had got out to get some papers which he had been to hurried to secure at Paddington tipping the guard on the way, so that an old gentleman who showed signs of desiring to enter was warded off to another compartment. Thus when the train re-started, they were again left alone. Amaryllis had partially recovered and was looking nearly her usual self, but for the violet shadows beneath her eyes. She glanced at the papers which he handed to her, and Denzil retired behind the Times. He wanted to think; he must not let himself slip out of hand. He must resolutely stamp out all the emotion that she was causing him; he despised weakness of any sort. He thought of Verisschenzko's words about laws being powerless to control a man's actions, when a natural force is prompting him, unless he uses self-analysis, and so by gaining knowledge permits the spirit to conquer. He recollected that he had transgressed often without a backward thought in past days with other women, but now his honour was engaged even apart from his firm belief in Stepan's favourite saying, that a man must never sully the wrong thing. Then the argument they had often had about indulgences came to him, and the truth of the only possibility of their enjoyment being while they remained servants, not masters. He had had his indulgences in the two hours to Westbury, and had very nearly let it conquer him, more than once, and now he must not only curb all friendly words and delightful dalliance with forbidden topics, but he must _feel_ no more passion. He made himself read the war news and try to visualize the grim reality behind the official phrasing of the communiques. And gradually he became calm, and was almost startled when Amaryllis, who had been watching him furtively and had begun to wonder if he was really so interested in his paper, said timidly: