Philadelphus got upon his feet and looked to catch the first glimpse of the woman who was bringing him two hundred talents.
A woman entered the hall.

Behind her came a servant bearing a shittim-wood casket.
Had Amaryllis been looking for suspicious signs, she would have observed in the intense silence that fell, in the arrested attitude of the pair, more than a natural embarrassment.

Any one informed that these were a pair of impostors would have seen that there was no confusion here, but amazement, chagrin and no little fear.
Instead, Amaryllis, nothing suspecting, glanced from one set face to the other and laughed.
"Poor children! Married fourteen years and more than strangers to each other! I will take myself off until you recover." She signed to the servant to follow her and passed out of the hall.
Philadelphus then put off his stony quiet and gazed wrathfully at the woman who had entered.
Hers was a fine frame, broad and square of shoulder, tall and lank of hip as some great tiger-cat, and splendid in its sinuosity.

She had walked with a long stride and as she dropped into the chair she crossed her limbs so that her well-turned ankles showed and the hands she clasped about her knees were long and strong, white and remarkably tapering.

Her features were almost too perfect; her beauty was sensuous, insolent and dazzling.