"I am quite sure that it is tiring you, showing me all the house like this, we won't look at another picture—and really I must be getting on."
She did not contradict him.
"I am afraid that you ought to go perhaps, if you want to arrive by daylight."
And as they returned to the green drawing-room she said some nice things about wanting to meet his mother, and she tried to be natural and at ease, but her hand was cold as ice when he held it in saying good-bye before the fire, when Filson had announced the motor.
And if his eyes had shown passionate emotion in the picture gallery, hers now filled with question and distress.
"Good-bye, Denzil—"
"Good-bye, Amaryllis—" He could not bring himself to say the usual conventionalities, and went towards the door with nothing more.
Her brain was clearing, terror and passion and uncertainty had come in like a flood.
"Denzil—?"
He turned to her side fearfully. Why had she called him now?