present moment. I must go back and see how he is getting on."

"Wait a moment!" Olga broke in rapidly. "I--I'm afraid you're right. Dad
would certainly keep him. Oh, why isn't Nick here? He needn't have
chosen to-day to break this thumb."

"Kismet!" said Max, with a cynical lift of the shoulders. "I gather you
don't like the man?"

She shrank at the question: it was almost a shudder. "No!"

He turned to the door. "Well, pull yourself together. I daresay he won't
eat you. And you'll have Miss Campion to protect you. She would be proof
against a dozen monsters."

He cast her a glance with the words that made her aware of a certain not
very abstruse meaning behind them. Olga's cheeks burned again. Did he
know, then? Had he guessed why Violet was in the house? Was that the
reason of his curious vigilance, his guarded acceptance of her favours?
She was possessed by an almost overwhelming desire to know, and yet no
words could she find in which to ask.

"Well?" said Max, pausing in the act of opening the door. "You were
going to say--"

She raised her eyes with a conscious effort, and nerved herself to
speak.

"Max," she said desperately, "please don't mind my asking! It isn't from
idle curiosity. Do you like her?" She saw the rough red brows go up, and