she was occupied with her jam-making,
while Violet lazed in the garden. Nick had planned a motor-ride in the
afternoon, and they went for miles, returning barely in time for dinner.
Violet was in excellent spirits throughout, and seemed unconscious of
fatigue, though Olga was so weary that she nearly fell asleep in the
drawing-room after the meal. Max was in one of his preoccupied moods,
and scarcely addressed a word to anyone. Only when he bade her
good-night she had a curious feeling that his hand-grip was intended to
convey something more than mere convention demanded. She withdrew her
own hand very quickly. For some reason she was feeling a little afraid
of Max.

Yet on the following morning, so casual was his greeting that she felt
oddly vexed with him as well as with herself, and was even glad when
Violet sauntered down late as usual and claimed his attention. Violet,
it seemed, had decided to ignore his decidedly arbitrary treatment of
her. She had also apparently given up smoking, for she made no further
reference to her vanished cigarettes, a piece of docility over which
Olga, who had known her intimately for some years, marvelled much.

She was obliged to leave her that afternoon to go to tea with an old
patient of her father's who lived at the other end of the parish, Violet
firmly refusing at the last moment to accompany her thither. Nick had
promised to coach the boys at cricket practice that day, and Olga
departed with a slight feeling of uneasiness and a determination to
return as early as possible.

It was not, however, easy to curtail her visit. The patient was a
garrulous old woman, and Olga was kept standing on the point of
departure for a full half-hour. In the end she almost wrenched herself
free and hurried home at a pace that brought her finally to her own door
so hot and breathless that she was obliged to sit down and gasp in the
hall before she could summon the strength to investigate any further.

Recovering at length, she went in search of Violet, and found her
lounging under the limes in luxurious coolness with a book.

She glanced up from this at Olga's approach and smiled. There was a
sparkle in her eyes that made her very alluring.

"Poor child! How hot you are! People with your complexion never ought to
get hot. What have you been doing?"

She stretched a lazy hand of welcome, as Olga subsided upon the grass
beside her.

"I've been hurrying back," Olga explained. "I thought you