indignation. "It does matter in my opinion."

"Nothing that's past matters," said Max.

"I don't agree with you!" Hotly she made answer, inexplicably hurt by
his callous tone. "It matters a lot to me. She was a friend of mine. If
I had known she was seriously ill, I'd have gone to see her. You--I
think you might have told me."

She turned with the words as if to go, but Max coolly stepped to the
door before her. He stretched a hand as if to open it, but paused,
holding it closed.

"I was not aware that the old woman was a friend of yours," he said.
"But it wouldn't have done much good to anyone if you had seen her. She
probably wouldn't have known you."

"I might have taken her things at least," said Olga.

"Which she wouldn't have touched," he rejoined.

She clenched her hands unconsciously. Why was he so maddeningly
cold-blooded?

"Do you mind opening the door?" she said.

But he remained motionless, his hand upon it. "Do you mind telling me
where you are going?" he said.

Her eyes blazed. "Really, Dr. Wyndham, what is that to you?"