"You won't run away?" he said. "No--no! I've nowhere to go." "And you mention the matter to no one--on your oath--till we meet again?" His eyes were cruel still, but they were not cold. They shone upon her with a fierce heat. She could not avoid them, though they seemed to burn her through and through. "I promise," she said through white lips. "Very well. Till Thursday then." He let her go; and then, as if repenting, caught her suddenly back to him, savagely, passionately. "I'll have that kiss anyway," he said, "whether you take me or not. It's the price of my good behaviour till Thursday. Come, a kiss never hurt anyone, so it isn't likely to kill you." She did not resist him. She even gave him her lips; but she was shaking as one in an ague, and her whole weight was upon him as he crushed her in his arms. So deathly was her face that after a moment even he was slightly alarmed. He put her down again in the chair with a laugh that was not wholly self-complacent. "That's all right, then. I'll leave you to get used to the idea. You will give me my answer on Thursday, then, and we will decide on the next step. I don't mean to be kept waiting, you know. I've had enough of that." She did not answer him or move. She was staring straight before her, with hands fast gripped together in her lap. He bent a little. "What's the matter? I haven't hurt you. Aren't you well?" "Quite," she said, without stirring. He laughed again--the soft laugh she so abhorred. "Jove! What a dance you've led me!" he said. "You'll have a good deal to make up for when the time comes. I shan't let you off that." "Will you--please--go?" said Olga, in that still voice of hers, not looking at him yet, nor moving. He laughed again caressingly. "Yes, I'll go. You want to have a good quiet think, I suppose. But there's only one way out, you know. You'll have to give in now. And the sooner the better." "I shall see you on Thursday," she said. "Yes, I shall be there. Keep the supper-dances for me! We'll find a quiet corner somewhere and enjoy ourselves. Till Thursday then! Good-bye!" "Good-bye!" she said. He was gone. Before her wide eyes he went away along the verandah, and passed from her sight, and there fell an intense silence. Olga sat motionless as a statue, gazing straight before her. A squirrel skipped airily on to the further end of the verandah and sat there, washing its face. Below, on the path, a large lizard flicked out from behind a stone, looked hither and thither, spied the still figure, and darted away again. And then, somewhere away among the cypresses the silence was broken; a paroquet began to screech. Olga stirred, and a great breath burst suddenly from her--the first she had drawn in many seconds. She stretched out her hands into emptiness. "Oh, Max!" she said. "Max! Max!" With that bitter cry, all her strength seemed to go from her. She bowed her head upon her knees and wept bitterly, despairingly....