"Is it?" said Max. "Then my medical education is incomplete. My partners generally prefer to sit out after the first round." "I shan't sit out with anyone," declared Olga. "It's such a waste of time. One can do that any day." "So one can," said Max. "I hope you are not hurrying away on my account, Mrs. Musgrave. My business here is not urgent. It will very well wait." He was evidently in an incurably cynical mood, and Olga gave him up in despair. She went with Daisy to the gate, and, with her arms round her neck, besought her, half-laughing, not to be misled by appearances. "I was myself," she confessed. "I actually hated him once. But now--but now--" "But now it's all right," smiled Daisy. "Run back to him, dear child! I should imagine he is the sort of young man who doesn't like to be kept waiting." That was all the criticism she permitted herself, but Olga, returning slowly to Max on the verandah, was regretfully aware that the impression he had made upon this friend of hers was far from favourable. "It isn't nice of you, Max," she began, as she reached him. "It really isn't nice of you." But she got no further than that for the moment, for Max literally lifted her off her feet, holding her fast in his arms while he kissed the colour into her white face, finally lowering her into Nick's favourite hammock and dexterously settling her therein. "You shouldn't!" she protested feebly. "You shouldn't! And indeed I'm not going to lie here." "You are going to do as you are told, fair lady," he responded grimly. "What have you been lying awake half the night for?" "I didn't," she began. "At least--" seeing his look of open incredulity--"it couldn't have been so long as that. And I--I had a lot of things to think about. No, Max, you're not to feel my pulse! Max, I won't have it!" She pulled desperately, and freed herself. Max thrust his hands into his pockets, faintly smiling, and stood over her, contemplating her. "Well, tell me all the things you had to think about!" he said. She shook her head, flushed still and slightly distressed. "No, Max." He stooped over her, searching her face. "Do you like being engaged, Olga?" he asked. She sat up quickly and leaned against him, her hands clasped upon his arm. "I'm happy enough to--to want to cry," she said, a slight catch in her voice. He held her closely again, her head against his heart. "No, that's not the reason," he said softly into her ear. "Something is bothering you, isn't it?" She swallowed once or twice and nodded. "I'm--foolish," she managed to utter after a moment. "Never mind if you can't help it!" he said. "Tell me what it's about!" But she was silent. "Afraid I shan't understand?" he questioned. Her hand nestled into his, but she kept her face down. "I wrote a long, long letter to Dad last night," she remarked irrelevantly, after a pause. "He--I'm afraid he'll be rather surprised." "I wonder," said Max.