"In miniature," suggested Max. "He is actually proposing to go and kick
Major Hunt-Goring because--" He broke off short.

Into Olga's face of flushed remonstrance there had flashed a very
strange look, almost a petrified look, as if she had suddenly come upon
a snake in her path.

"Why?" she said quickly.

"Oh, never mind why," said Max, passing rapidly on. "That wasn't the
point. We were trying to picture Hunt-Goring's amusement. He stands
about seven feet high, doesn't he? And your redoubtable uncle--What
exactly is your height, Ratcliffe?"

"Nick, why do you want to kick Major Hunt-Goring?" Very distinctly Olga
put the question. She was evidently too proud to accept help from this
quarter.

"It's a chronic craving with me," said Nick. "But Miss Campion has
kindly undertaken the job for me. I am sure she is infinitely better
equipped for the task than I am, and she will probably do it much more
effectually."

"But not yet!" laughed Violet. "I like his cigarettes too well. Why do
you look like that, Allegro? Doesn't he send you any?"

"If he did," said Olga, with concentrated passion, "I'd pick them up
with the tongs and put them in the fire!"

Max laughed in a fashion that made her wince, but Nick's fingers