Olga Lermontof, her injured hand resting in a sling, chaffed her with
some amusement.

"I suppose, at last, you're beginning to understand that your voice is
really something out of the ordinary," she said. "Its effect on the
audience this afternoon is a better criterion than all the notices in
to-morrow's newspapers put together."

Diana laughed.

"Well, I hope it won't make a habit of producing that effect!" she
said, pulling a little face of disgust at the recollection. "I don't
know what would have happened if Mr. Errington hadn't come to my
rescue."

Max smiled across at her.

"You'd have been torn to bits and the pieces distributed amongst the
audience--like souvenir programmes--I imagine," he replied. Then,
turning towards the accompanist, he continued: "How does your hand feel
now, Miss Lermontof?"

There was a curious change in his voice as he addressed the Russian,
and Diana, glancing quickly towards her, surprised a strangely wistful
look in her eyes as they rested upon Errington's face.

"Oh, it is much better. I shall be able to play again in a few days.
But it was fortunate you were at the concert to-day, and able to take
my place."

"So you approve of me--for once?" he queried, with a rather twisted
little smile.

Olga remained silent for a moment, her eyes searching his face. Then
she said very deliberately:--

"I am glad you were able to play for Miss Quentin."

"But you won't commit yourself so far as to say that I have your
approval--even once?"

Miss Lermontof leaned forward impetuously.

"How can I?" she said, in hurried tones, "It's all wrong--oh! you know
that it's all wrong."

Errington shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm afraid we can never see eye to eye," he answered. "Let us, then,
be philosophical over the matter and agree to differ."

Olga's green eyes flamed with sudden anger, but she abstained from
making any reply, turning away from him abruptly.

Diana, whose attention had been claimed by the Rector, had not caught
the quickly spoken sentences which had passed between the two, but she
was puzzled over the oddly yearning look she had surprised in Olga's
eyes. There had been a tenderness, a species of wistful longing in her
gaze, as she had turned towards Max Errington, which tallied ill with
the bitter incisiveness of the remarks she let fall at times concerning
him.

"Well, my dear"--the Rector's voice recalled Diana's wandering
thoughts--"Joan and I must be g