wer him or move. She was staring straight before her,
with hands fast gripped together in her lap.

He bent a little. "What's the matter? I haven't hurt you. Aren't you
well?"

"Quite," she said, without stirring.

He laughed again--the soft laugh she so abhorred. "Jove! What a dance
you've led me!" he said. "You'll have a good deal to make up for when
the time comes. I shan't let you off that."

"Will you--please--go?" said Olga, in that still voice of hers, not
looking at him yet, nor moving.

He laughed again caressingly. "Yes, I'll go. You want to have a good
quiet think, I suppose. But there's only one way out, you know. You'll
have to give in now. And the sooner the better."

"I shall see you on Thursday," she said.

"Yes, I shall be there. Keep the supper-dances for me! We'll find a
quiet corner somewhere and enjoy ourselves. Till Thursday then!
Good-bye!"

"Good-bye!" she said.

He was gone. Before her wide eyes he went away along the verandah, and
passed from her sight, and there fell an intense silence.

Olga sat motionless as a statue, gazing straight before her. A squirrel
skipped airily on to the further end of the verandah and sat there,
washing its face. Below, on the path, a large lizard flicked out from
behind a stone, looked hither and thither, spied the still figure, and
darted away again. And then, somewhere away among the cypresses the
silence was broken; a paroquet began to screech.

Olga stirred, and a great breath burst suddenly from her--the first she
had drawn in many seconds. She stretched out her hands into emptiness.

"Oh, Max!" she said. "Max! Max!"

With that bitter cry, all her strength seemed to go from her. She bowed
her head upon her knees and wept bitterly, despairingly....

It must have been a full quarter of an hour later that Nick came lightly
along the verandah, paused an instant behind the bowed figure, then
slipped round and knelt beside it.

"Kiddie! Kiddie! What's the matter?" he said.

His one arm gathered her to him, so that she lay against his shoulder in
the old childish attitude, his cheek pressed against her forehead.

She was too exhausted, too spent by that bitter paroxysm of weeping, to
be startled by his sudden coming. She only clung to him weakly,
whispering, "Oh, Nick, have you come back at last?"

"But of course I have," he said. "Have you been worrying about me? I
sent you a message."

"I know. But I--I couldn't help being anxious." She mu