The most curious emotions of excitement rose in her when they went off in the smart new automobile en route for that inevitable country house "lent by the bridegroom's uncle, the Earl de la Paule, for the first days of the honeymoon."
This particular mansion was on the river, only two hours' drive from her aunt's Charles Street door. Now that she was his wife, surely John would begin to make love to her, real love, kisses, claspings, and what not. For Elsie Goldmore had presumed upon their schoolgirl friendship and been quite explicate in these last days, and in any case Amaryllis was not a miss of the Victorian era. The feminine world has grown too unrefined in the expression of its private affairs and too indiscreet for any maiden to remain in ignorance now.
It is true John did kiss her once or twice, but there was no real warmth in the embrace, and when, after an excellent dinner her heart began to beat with wonderment and excitement, she asked herself what it meant. Then, all confused, she murmured something about "Good-night," and retired to the magnificent state suite alone.
When she had left him John Ardayre drank down a full glass of Benedictine and followed her up the stairs, but there was no lover's exaltation, but an anguish almost of despair in his eyes.
Amaryllis thought of that night—and of other nights since—as she sat there at Arménonville, in the luminous sensuous dusk.
So this was being married! Well, it was not much of a joy—and why, why did John sit silent there? Why?
Surely this is not how the Russian would have sat—that strange Russian!
CHAPTER III
It was nearing sunset in the garden below the Trocadéro. A tall German officer waited impatiently not far from the bronze of a fierce bull in a secluded corner under the trees; he was plainly an officer although he was clothed in mufti of English make. He was a singularly handsome creature in spite of his too wide hips. A fine, sensual, brutal male.
He swore in his own language, and then, through the glorious light, a woman came towards him. She wore an unremarkable overcoat and a thick veil.