They were silent for some time, and were nearing Frome when he spoke. He had been deliberating as to what he ought to do? Get out and leave her, to catch his connection to Bath, or sacrifice that and see her safely to her destination and perhaps hire a motor from Bridgeborough?
This latter was his strong desire and also seemed the only chivalrous thing to do when she still looked so pale, but—
"Here we are almost at Frome," he said.
Her eyes rounded with concern. It would be horrid to be alone. She had left her maid in London for a few days' holiday.
"You change here for Bath," she faltered a little uncertainly.
He decided in a second. He could not be inhuman! Duty and desire were one!
"Yes—but I am coming on with you. I shall not leave you until I see you safely into your own motor. I can hire one perhaps then, to take me on the rest of the way."
She was relieved—or she thought it was merely relief, which made a sudden lifting in her heart!
"How kind of you. I do feel as if I did not like the thought of being by myself, it is so stupid of me—But you can't hire a motor from Bridgeborough which would get you to Bath before dark! They are wretched things there. You must come with me to Ardayre; it is on the Bath road, you know—and we can have a late lunch, and and then I'll send you on in the Rolls Royce. You will be there in an hour—in time for tea."
This was a tremendous fresh temptation. He tried to look at it as though it did not in reality matter to him more than the appearance suggested. Had there been no emotion in his interest in Amaryllis, he would not have hesitated, he knew.