"You're so horrid," she burst out, "so cold-blooded, so--so--so
unsympathetic!"

To her own amazement and dismay, she found herself in tears. In the
same instant she was free and the door left unguarded; but she did not
use her freedom to escape. Somehow she did not think of that. She only
leaned against the wall with her hands over her face and wept.

Max, with his hands deep in his pockets, strolled about the room,
whistling below his breath. The gleam had died out of his eyes, but the
brows met fiercely above them. His face was the face of a man working
out a difficult problem.

Suddenly he walked up to her, and stood still.

"Look here," he said; "can't you manage to be sensible for a minute? If
you go on in this way you will soon get hysterical, and I don't think my
treatment for hysterics would appeal to you. Olga, are you listening?"

Yes, she was listening--listening tensely, because she could not help
herself.

"I'm sorry you think me a brute," he proceeded. "I don't think anyone
else does, but that's a detail. I am also sorry that you're upset about
old Mrs. Stubbs, though I don't see much sense in crying for her now her
troubles are over. I think myself that it was just as well I didn't
reach her in time. I should only have prolonged her misery. That's one
of the grand obstacles in the medical career. I've kicked against it a
good many times." He paused.