She kissed his hand. "You--you--I--I am awfully fond of you. How could I indeed be sorry?" Then she continued very earnestly: "You know, for I have already told you, how that blackguard of a lieutenant treated me, and I swore henceforward to be an honourable woman and to have nothing to do with a man. I kept to my resolution for a year. Well, what happened then? Then there came along someone whom I liked very much, and who was very good and kind to me. You know it is very difficult to be respectable on the stage; we inferior ones are always envious of the 'stars' who go about in silk and satin, and who frequently cannot act any better than the others, and who only owe their position to a rich friend who pays for their dresses and arranges with the director and manager that his _protégée_ shall be brought out and given a good part. Well, that's how it is, and besides one wants to enjoy one's life; everybody does the same, not only those who are on the stage. We are not the worst; the others who do it all secretly and pose as highly respectable young women, they are really the worst." "Now, now, Olga, take a glass of wine. Why do you get into a temper? Do be cheerful again." After a short struggle her naturally kindly disposition got the upper hand. "You are quite right. I cannot alter what has already happened, but still the lieutenant was a blackguard; you remember I told you he shot himself later, and that was the best thing he could do." "Don't be so hard, Olga." "Pray do not stand up for him," she went on angrily. "I know what you feel: that if a young girl accepts an invitation from an officer she must know quite well what to expect. But I was very young and inexperienced then." "But, Olga, I cannot understand you to-day. What is the matter with you? Why do you insult the officers in this way. You remember I am one." "Ah, you," she said tenderly. "You are not really one of them. You are much too honourable. You are a man, the others are stuck-up apes, and besides that, generally liars and betrayers." "Olga, I beg you with all seriousness to cease making these remarks. Whatever is the matter with you? Shall we stay here or go into the sitting-room?" he asked her presently. "Let us go into the sitting-room," she replied. She loved the large beautiful room with its splendid carpet, heavy _portière_ and the fine pictures. Best of all she loved the large comfortable leather seat in front of the fire, and every time that she visited George she meant to ask him to let her sit in that chair after dinner. She had never done so, because on every occasion, to-day included, directly they went into the sitting-room George drew out the _chaise longue_ for her, put a cushion under her head, and covered her with a great bear rug. He always did this, and treated her with so much love and such tender consideration that she had not the heart to tell him how uncomfortable she was. "Are you comfortable, darling?"