home, despite the brown coverings. Many were the happy hours she had
spent here both before and after Nick's marriage. It had always been her
palace of delight.

As she paused in the room, she remembered that there was a book Nick
had said he wanted out of the library. This room was a somewhat recent
addition to the house and shut away from the rest of the building by a
long passage. She passed from the drawing-room, and made her way
thither.

It surprised her a little to find the door standing open, but it was
only a passing wonder. The light that came in through green sun-blinds
made her liken it in her own mind to a chamber under the sea. She went
to a book-shelf in a dark corner, and commenced her hunt.

"If you are looking for Farrow's _Treatise on Party Government_,"
remarked a casual voice behind her, "I've got it here."

Olga started violently. Any voice would have given her a surprise at
that moment, but the voice of Max Wyndham was an absolute shock that set
every nerve on edge.

He laughed at her from the sofa, on which he sprawled at length. "My
good child, your nerves are like fiddle-strings after a frost. Remind me
to make you up a tonic when we get back! Did you bicycle over?"

Olga ignored the question. She was for the moment too angry to speak.

"Sit down," he said. "You ought to know better than to scorch on a day
like this. You deserve a sunstroke."