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!
Amaryllis was only conscious that Denzil seemed the reality of her dream of John, and that she liked his nearness—and Denzil only knew that he loved her extremely and must banish emotion and remember his given word. So he pulled himself together when she sat up presently and began talking again, and gradually the atmosphere of throbbing excitement between them calmed. They spoke of each other's tastes and likings and found many to be the same. Then they spoke of books, and each discovered that the other was sufficiently well read to be able to discuss varied favourite authors.
An understanding and sympathy had grown up between them before they reached Westbury, and yet Denzil was really trying to keep his word in the spirit as well as the letter.
Amaryllis felt no constraint—she was more friendly than she would have been with any other man she knew so slightly. Were they not cousins, and was it not perfectly natural!
They talked of Oxford and of the effect it had upon young men, and again they spoke of Stépan and of the dream he and Denzil shared.