swiftly repented her temerity. "I only asked," she faltered, "because--"

"Well?" Max said again. "It would be interesting to know why you asked."

She compelled herself to answer him, or perhaps it was he who compelled.
In any case, with her head bent, her answer came.

"I had been thinking that perhaps you were getting fond of her,
and--and--I should be sorry if that happened, because I know she isn't
in earnest. I know she is only playing with you."

The words ran cut in a whisper. She dared not look at him. She could
only watch with fascinated eyes the brown fingers that gripped the
door-knob.

"She has told you that?" asked Max.

She quivered at the question. It was horribly difficult to answer. "I
know it is so," she murmured.

She was thankful that he did not press her to be more explicit. He stood
for a moment in silence; then: "Isn't it possible," he said in a very
level tone, "for a woman to set out to catch a man and to end by being
caught herself?"

"Not for Violet," said Olga.

"I wonder," said Max.

She looked up at him quickly, caught by something in his tone. His eyes,