Hunt-Goring."

He stooped swiftly and looked into her face. "What has he been doing?"

"I'll tell you!" she said. "I'll tell you!"

And then, arrested possibly by something in that flashing regard, she
raised herself and looked straight up at him.

"I can only tell you everything," she said, "if you will promise me not
to go and quarrel with him--in fact, not to go near him. Will you
promise, Nick?"

"I will not," said Nick.

"You must!" she said. "You must!"

"I will not," he said again.

She held his hand imploringly. "Not if I ask you--not if I beg you--"

"Not in any case," he said. "Now tell me the truth as quickly as you
can."

She shook her head. "Nick, I can't. He is quite unscrupulous. He might
kill you!"

"So he might," said Nick grimly. "He's crazy enough for anything. What
has he been doing?"

"Is he crazy?" she said, catching at the word.

"He's drug-ridden," said Nick, "and devil-ridden too upon occasion. Now
tell me!"

She began to cry with her head against his arm. "Nick,--I'm frightened!
I can't!"

"Oh, damn!" said Nick to the world at large. And then he gently released
himself and knelt beside her. "Look here, Olga darling! There's nothing
to frighten you. I'm not a headlong fool. There! Dry your eyes, and be
sensible! What's the beast been up to? Made love to you, has he?"

His bony hand grasped hers again very vitally, very reassuringly. Almost
insensibly she yielded herself to his control. Quiveringly she began to
tell him of the morning's happenings.

Perhaps it was as well that she did not see Nick's face as she did so,
or she might have found it difficult to continue. As it was she spoke
haltingly, with many pauses, describing to him Hunt-Goring's arrival and
invitation, her own dilemma, her final surrender.

"I couldn't help it, Nick," she said, still fast clinging to his hand.
"I couldn't let her go alone."

"Go on," said Nick.

And then she told him of Hunt-Goring's overture, her own sick repulsion
for the man, his persistence, his brutality.

At that abruptly Nick broke in. "Before you go any farther--has he ever
made love to you before?"

She answered him because she had no choice. "Yes, Nick. But I always
hated him."

"And you didn't tell me," he said.

There was no note of reproach in his tone, yet in some fashion it hurt
her.

"Nick--darling, you--you've only got one arm," she said. "And he's such
a great, strong bully."

Nick uttered a sudden fierce