She knew he had divined the change, and suspected him of being amused thereby--a suspicion which he strengthened by saying with a laugh, "You didn't know I could be such a brute, did you?" She smiled back a little wistfully. "I begin to think you could be almost anything, Nick," she said. He shot her a swift glance, and it seemed to her for a moment that he was looking for a double meaning to her words. But apparently he found none, for he smiled again with the comfortable remark, "Ah, well, it's a useful faculty if exercised with discretion. What are you going to wear to-night? Let's hear all about it!" That was the new Nick all over, displaying the male denseness with which she had never been wont to credit him. She gave him details of her costume without much ardour, he listening with careless comments. "You don't sound very keen," he said suddenly. "I believe you're getting _blase_." "These things get a little monotonous, don't they?" said Sir Reginald. His smile was sympathetic. She felt inexplicably that he understood her better than did Nick. He had fathomed the deadly weariness that Nick had overlooked. "Go on!" commanded Nick. "Who are you going to dance with?" She hesitated a little, and he turned his hand and pinched her fingers somewhat mercilessly. "Noel of course--he's too handsome to refuse, isn't he? And the rest of the boys will expect their share, doubtless. But remember--the supper-dances are mine." She started a little. "Oh, Nick dear, I'm afraid I've promised those already." "To whom?" said Nick swiftly. "Major Hunt-Goring." Her voice was low; she did not look at him as she uttered the name. Nick's eyebrows shot upwards with lightning rapidity; then drew into a frown. He was silent for a moment before he said very decidedly, "I'm not going to let you dance with Hunt-Goring, so you may as well pass his dances on to me. If he wants to know the reason, he can ask me--and I shall be delighted to tell him." He spoke in a fighting tone; there was fight in the grip of his hand. Olga noted it, and foresaw trouble. "I'm afraid it's too late now, Nick," she said rather wearily. "I must keep my engagements." Nick turned and sent one of his keen glances over her. "You won't keep this one," he told her. "I am simply not going to allow it. Those supper-dances are mine, so make up your mind to that!" He spoke with a finality that made protest seem futile. It seemed to Olga that the yellow face had never looked so grim. She made no further effort to withstand him, aware that to do so would entail a battle of wills which could only end in her defeat. Perhaps deep in the heart of her she was even thankful for this brief reprieve. She said nothing therefore, and Sir Reginald considerately turned the subject by asking Nick what disguise he intended to assume. "I?" said Nick. "I haven't absolutely decided, sir. I've got a fool's dress somewhere that might serve."