ed.

"What?" said Olga.

She turned round to her with a little gesture of confidence. "I
sometimes have a feeling, Allegro, that I must be getting old or dull or
plain already. Men don't make love to me so much as they did."

"My dear, what nonsense!" exclaimed Olga, with burning cheeks.

"No, listen! It's true." There was almost a sound of tears in the deep
voice. "It's quite true, Allegro. I am not so attractive as I was. I
feel it. I know it. Something is lost. I don't know what it is. It went
from me that night--you remember!--and it hasn't returned. I thought it
was my soul at first. I still sometimes wonder." She laid a hand that
quivered and clung upon Olga's arm. "And the dreadful part of it is,
Allegro, that Max knows. He looks at me with the most deadly knowledge
in his eyes--such wicked eyes they are, all green and piercing, and so
cruel--so cruel."

A great shiver went through her, and then all in a moment--before Olga
could utter a word--her mood had changed. She leaped suddenly to her
feet, all sparkling animation and excitement.

"See! There is a yacht just come round the headland! How close it is!
Oh, Allegro, wouldn't you love to go on the water this stifling day?"

"An easy wish to gratify!" observed a voice close to them.

Olga turned with a violent start. Violet merely glanced over her
shoulder and smiled. Hunt-Goring, stepping lightly in canvas shoes, came
airily forward over the sand, and bowed low.

"I am the _deus ex machina_," he said. "The yacht is mine--and entirely
at your service."

Olga's face was crimson. She got quickly to her feet and stood stiffly
silent.

Hunt-Goring was looking remarkably elegant, attired in white drill with
a yachting cap which he carried in his hand.

"I seem to have come at an opportune moment," he said. "Really, the
fates are more than kind. The yacht is making for Brethaven jetty to
take me on board. If you ladies will come with me for a couple of hours'
cruise, I need scarcely say how charmed I shall be."

He was looking at Violet as he spoke, and she made instant and impulsive
reply. "Of course we will! It will be too delicious--the very thing I
was longing for. What lucky chance sent you our way, I wonder?"

She gave him her hand, which he took with a gallantry that sent a quiver
of disgust through Olga. With a sharp effort she spoke, hurriedly,
nervously, but very much to the point.

"It's very good of you, but we can't possibly come. We mus