was no matter for an apology. The thing was beyond words.

"And now," said Max Wyndham, coolly removing the ash from his cigarette,
"perhaps you will come to the surgery with me and get it out."

"I?" stammered Olga, turning very white.

"Even so, fair lady. It will be a little lesson for you--in surgery. I
hope the sight of blood doesn't make you feel green," said Max, with a
one-sided twitch of the lips that was scarcely a smile.

He removed his hand to her relief, and stood up. Olga stood up too, but
she was trembling all over.

"Oh, I can't! Indeed, I can't! Dr. Wyndham, please!" She glanced round
desperately. "There's Nick! Couldn't you ask him?"

"Unfortunately this is a job that requires two hands," said Max.
"Besides, you did the mischief, remember."

Olga gasped and said no more. Meekly she laid her work on the chair by
the hammock and accompanied him to the house. It was the most painful
predicament she had ever been in. She knew that there was no escape for
her, knew, moreover, that she richly deserved her punishment; yet, as he
held open the surgery-door for her, she made one more appeal.

"I'm sure I can't do it. I shall do more harm than good, and hurt you
horribly."

"Oh, but you'll enjoy that," he said.