oms--for Diana had been the only one
amongst them whose means had permitted the luxury of a separate
sitting-room--and in a few minutes Olga joined him there.

There was a curiously hostile look in her face as she greeted him.

"This is--an unexpected pleasure, Max," she began mockingly. "To what
am I indebted?"

Errington hesitated a moment. Then, his keen eyes resting piercingly
on hers, he said quietly:--

"I want to know how we stand, Olga. Are you trying to make mischief
for me with my wife?"

"Then she's asked you?" exclaimed Olga triumphantly.

"Diana has asked me nothing. Though I have no doubt that you have been
hinting and suggesting things to her that she would ask me about if it
weren't for her splendid, loyalty. You have the tongue of an asp,
Olga! Always, after your visits, I can see that Diana is worried and
unhappy."

"How can she ever be happy--as your wife?"

Errington winced.

"I could make her happy--if you--you and Baroni--would let me. I know
I must regard you as an enemy in--that other matter . . . as a 'passive
resister,' at least," he amended, with a bitter smile. "But am I to
regard you as an enemy to my marriage, too? Or, is it your idea of
punishment, perhaps--to wreck my happiness?"

Olga shrugged her shoulders, and, walking to the window, stood there
silently, staring out into the street. When she turned back again, her
eyes were full of tears.

"Max," she said earnestly, "you may not believe it, but I want your
happiness above everything else in the world. There is no one I love
as I love you. Give up--that other affair. Wash your hands of it.
Let Adrienne go, and take your happiness with Diana. That's what I'm
working for--to make you choose between Diana and that interloper. You
won't give her up for me; but perhaps, if Diana--if your wife--insists,
you will shake yourself free, break with Adrienne de Gervais at last.
Sometimes I'm almost tempted to tell Diana the truth, to force your
hand!"

Errington's eyes blazed.

"If you did that," he said quietly, "I would never see, or speak to
you, again."

Olga shivered a little.

"Your honour is mine," he went on. "Remember that."

"It isn't fair," she burst out passionately. "It isn't fair to put it
like that. Why should I, and you, and Diana--all of us--be sacrificed
for Adrienne?"

"Because you and I are--what we are, and because Diana is my wife."

Olga looked at him curiously.

"Then--if it came