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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Weren't you glad," asked Amaryllis, "when you'd got me off to sleep, and when I woke up all alive again? I know it didn't make you look anything but stern and pre-occupied and business-like; I felt as if you were pleased, though. I'm different, and show things in my face, I suppose." "But you were looking like that when I opened my eyes." "Well?" said Amaryllis.
The man, although of middle height and erect carriage, had so vast a spread and depth of chest, development of the deltoid muscles so unusual, and length of arm so unnatural as to establish the effect at once of power and deformity; to which the yellow skin, high cheek-bones, small eyes, and the thin black moustaches, drooping long and perpendicular from each corner of the broken-toothed mouth, added an expression of cruelty so unmitigated that Amaryllis turned sick at the sight, closing her eyes in dreadful disgust; while the European leather and cloth costume of a chauffeur not only added horror to the outlandish figure, but gave Dick Bellamy almost the certainty that here was yet another accomplice of Alban Melchard.
Pushing back her sailor hat, Alma looked obliquely at him from beneath her drooping lids. "Try me. Perhaps infection haunts the air. Spare us the Greek, come down from your Yale and Harvard heights to the level of my ignorance, and warble for me in English some of your Sicilian lark's melodies. At least I have heard of Amaryllis and Simaetha." Mr. Cutting shook his head.
"I believe you, my dear," he answered; then added gently: "There's a happier man somewhere, I think." Amaryllis opened her eyes wide, almost, it seemed, in fear. "Oh, no, no!" she cried. "Truthfully, I don't know any more than I've told you." When he was gone, she sat for a long time, wishing she could feel alone.
The pair stood motionless, their hearts in their ears. What they heard was unmistakable. "A motor," said Amaryllis. "It's coming down." She laid a hand on his shoulder, lifting her face to him. When he raised his own from it, it was to watch the point where the descending road took its last bend in the passage by which it had traversed the ridge: the point where the approaching car must appear.
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 letter to his brother, which he had posted in York at three o'clock in the morning, though it gave the address of the man he was hunting, could not, any more than that which he had just entrusted to the landlord of "The Coach and Horses," reach Scotland Yard in time to bring help in the immediate danger which he foresaw danger which he would never have run the risk of bringing upon Amaryllis Caldegard but for his conviction of that worse peril threatening her.
From her position, she saw running toward them John of Gischala, with his long garments whipping about him, wrapping his tall figure in live cerements. He was disarmed and bleeding. She saw next Amaryllis, with compassionate uplifted hands stop in his way; saw next the Gischalan thrust her aside with a blow and the next instant disappear as if the earth had swallowed him.
He looked at their incomplete, meaningless uniform, at their arms, half savage, at their faces, half mad, and believed that he, with an army rationally organized and effectually equipped, would have little difficulty in subduing the unbalanced forces of Simon. Since siege was laid, he did not expect to be met by Amaryllis' servant in the purple turban. He approached a citizen.
Afterwards, in the green drawing room, Amaryllis played to them and delighted their ears, and then they went up to the cedar parlour and sat round the fire and talked and made plans. If it should be quite hopeless that Denzil could ever return to the front, or be of service behind the lines, he meant to enter Parliament.
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