But before he found words, Caldegard appeared on the terrace, shouting that it was five minutes past one, and lunch waiting.
The pair walked side by side to the house.
"Don't answer me to-day, Amaryllis," he said, "but just turn me and it over in your mind now and then between this and Friday."
CHAPTER III.
"HUMMIN' BIRD'S WESKIT."
At a quarter past two that afternoon, Amaryllis, with her bull-dog, set out for a walk.
Her father was in the laboratory, ostensibly at work, and Sir Randal, beaming expectant, had driven off to St. Albans.
Tea-time, or even dinner was early enough, thought Amaryllis, to meet the new-comer; and then, in spite of the mixture of bewilderment, pride and regret which oppressed her, she remembered the words of the American in the Cape Town bar: "Eyes blue as a hummin' bird's weskit."
"How absurd!" she exclaimed, laughing to herself.