"No, pardon me, not yours!" Again his eyes took a leaping glance at his
companion.

Doggedly Max faced it. "Did she tell you?"

"Who?" said Nick.

"Olga." He flung the name with half-suppressed resentment. His attitude
in that moment was aggressively British. He looked as he had looked to
Olga that afternoon, undeniably formidable.

But Nick remained unimpressed. "I shan't answer that question," he said.

"You needn't," said Max grimly.

"That's why," said Nick.

"Oh! I see." Max's eyes searched him narrowly for a moment, then
returned to the ceiling. "Does she think I'm in love with her?" he asked
rather curtly.

"Well, scarcely. I shouldn't let her think that at present if I were
you. In my opinion any extremes are inadvisable at this stage."

"I suppose you know I am going to marry her?" said Max.

"Yes, I've divined that."

"And you approve?"