"Stépan is a wonder—we were at Oxford together—he can do anything he desires. He is a musician and an artist and is chock full of common sense, and there's not a touch of rot. He would have taken honours if he had not been sent down."
Amaryllis wanted to know about this, and listened amazedly to the story of the mad freak which had so scandalised the Dons.
She had recovered from her nervousness, she was natural and delightful, and although the peculiar situation was filling Denzil with excitement and emotion, he was too much a man of the world to experience any gêne. So they talked for a while with friendliness upon interesting things. Then a pause came and Amaryllis looked out of the window, and Denzil had time to grow aware that he must hold himself with a tighter hand, a sense almost of intoxication had begun to steal over him.
Suddenly Amaryllis grew very pale and her eyelids flickered a little; for the first time in her life she felt faint.
He bent forward in anxiety as she leaned her head against the cushioned division.
"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."