you if you
like," he said. "Let me just finish my letter to Jim first, though, or
it may never get written."

His pen resumed its energetic progress, and Olga fell into a brown
study.

Half an hour later Nick turned swiftly and looked at her. Her eyes met
his instantly.

"Not asleep?" he said.

"No, Nick. Only thinking."

"What about?"

"India," said Olga.

He got up and came and sat on the edge of the sofa. "Look here, kiddie,"
he said, "if you've thought better of it, just mention the same before I
post these letters. I shall understand."

She smiled at him, her quick, sweet smile. "Nick, you're a darling! But
I haven't."

"Quite sure?" said Nick.

"Quite sure," she replied with emphasis.

He looked a little quizzical. "By the way, did you ask Max--what you
wanted to know?"

She knew that she coloured, but she faced him notwithstanding. "No, I
didn't. I decided it wasn't important enough."

"Oh, all right," said Nick. He got up. "Now can I trust you to lie
quietly here while I go and post these letters?"

"Of course you can," she said.

"I shan't be more than five minutes," he said, turning to the door.

She watched him go, and then closed her eyes, slightly frowning. She
wished with all her heart that Major Hunt-Goring had not seen fit to
come again, even though it was obviously her friend and not herself that
he had come to see.

She was still pondering the unpleasant subject when the housemaid
suddenly presented herself at the open door.

"Cook wants to know what she's to do about the raspberries, miss."

"Raspberries!" said Olga, with a start. "Oh, I'm afraid they're done
for. It's no good thinking about them. I will go round to-morrow, and
see if there are any left worth having. But I expect they will all be
spoilt by this hot sun."

The girl looked at her, slightly mystified. "But they've been gathered,
miss. Didn't you know? Cook thought you had done them yourself before
you took ill."

Olga put her hand to her head. "No, I didn't. I hadn't finished. I
dropped them all too."

"Well, they're in the pantry now, miss, and cook was wondering if she
hadn't better start the jam first thing in the morning."

"Who brought them in?" asked Olga quickly.

The housemaid didn't know. She departed to ask.

Olga leaned back again on her cushions. She was growing a little tired
of inactivity, notwithstanding the undeniable languor that had succeeded
the previous day's headache.

The sound