"It is rather a treat to talk seriously; one so seldom has the chance to meet any one who understands."
"To understand!" and she sighed. "Alas—How quite perfect life would be—" and then she stopped abruptly. If she continued her words might contain a reflection upon John.
Denzil bent forward eagerly—what had she been going to say?
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.