handed the box to Grange she
came to Nick and stood beside him while she cut and lighted a cigar
for him.

He put his arm round her for a moment, and she stooped a flushed face
and kissed the top of his head.

"Run along," said Nick. "Take Muriel into the garden. She hasn't seen
it all."

Muriel rose. "We mustn't be late in starting back," she remarked to
Blake.

But Olga lingered to whisper vehemently in Nick's ear.

He laughed and shook his head. "Go, child, go! You don't know anything
about it. And Muriel is waiting. You should never keep a guest
waiting."

Olga went reluctantly. They passed out into the clear June sunshine
together and down towards the shady shrubberies beyond the lawns.

"Can Nick play tennis?" Muriel asked, as they crossed a marked-out
court.

"Yes, he can do anything," the child said proudly. "He was on
horseback this morning, and he managed splendidly. We generally
play tennis in the evening. He almost always wins. His services are
terrific. I can't think how he does it. He calls it juggling. I try to
manage with only one hand sometimes--just to keep him company--but I
always make a mess of things. There's no one in the world as clever as
Nick."

Muriel felt inclined to agree with her, though in her opinion this
distinguishing quality was not an altogether admirable one. She
infinitely preferred people with fewer brains. She would not, however,
say this to Olga, and they paced on together under the trees in
silence. Suddenly a warm hand slid within her arm, and Olga's grey
eyes, very loving and wistful, looked up into hers.

"Muriel darling," she whispered softly, "don't you--don't you--like
Nick after all?"

The colour rushed over Muriel's face in a vivid flood.

"Like him! Like him!" she stammered. "Why do you ask?"

"Because, dear--don't be vexed, I love you frightfully--you did hurt
him so at lunch," explained Olga, pressing very close to her.

"Hurt him! Hurt him!" Again Muriel repeated her words, then,
recovering sharply, broke into a sudden laugh. "My dear child, I
couldn't possibly do such a thing if I tried."

"But you did, you did!" persisted Olga, a faint note of indignation in
her voice. "You don't know Nick. He feels--tremendously. Of course
you might not see it, for it doesn't often show. But I know--I always
know--when he is hurt, by the way he laughs. And he was hurt to-day."

She stuck firmly to her point, notwithstanding Muriel's equally
persistent attit