It was when they were in Amaryllis's own little coupe very close to each other that strong temptation assailed Denzil. He suddenly felt his pulses throbbing wildly and it was with the greatest difficulty he prevented himself from clasping her in his arms. He tried to look out of the window and take an interest in the park, which was entered very soon after leaving the station. He told himself Ardayre was something which deserved his attention and he looked for the first view of the house, but all his will could only keep his arms from transgressing, it could not control the riot of his thoughts. Amaryllis was conscious in some measure that he was far from calm, and her own heart began to beat unaccountably. She talked rather fast about the place and its history, and both were relieved when the front door came in sight. There was a welcoming smell of burning logs in the hall to greet them, and the old butler could not restrain an expression of startled curiosity when he saw Denzil, the likeness to his master was so great. "This is Captain Ardayre, Filson," Amaryllis said, "Sir John's cousin," and then she gave the order about the motor to take Denzil on to Bath. They went through the Henry VII inner hall, and on to the green drawing-room, with its air of home and comfort, in spite of its great size and stateliness. There were no portraits here, but some fine specimens of the Dutch school, and the big tawny dogs rose to welcome their mistress and were introduced to their "new relation." She was utterly fascinating, Denzil thought, playing with them there on the great bear skin rug. "We shall lunch at once," she told him, "and then rush through the pictures afterwards before you start for Bath." They both tried to talk of ordinary things for the few moments before that meal was announced, and then some kind of devilment seemed to come into Amaryllis--nothing could have been more seductive or alluring than her manner, while keeping to strict convention. The bright pink colour glowed in her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. She could not have accounted for her mood herself. It was one of excitement and interest. Denzil had the hardest fight he had ever been through, and he grew almost gruff in consequence. He was really suffering. He admired the way she acted as hostess, and the way the home was done. He hardly felt anything else, though apart from her he would have been interested in his first view of Ardayre, but she absorbed all other emotions, he only knew that he desired to make passionate love to her, or to get away as quickly as he could. "Are you going to remain here all the winter?" he asked her presently, as they rose from the table, "or shall you go to London? You will be awfully lonely, won't you, if you stay here?"