It was impossible to be indignant. Olga tried and failed. She had not been aware till that moment that she was making a particularly brave show in her eighteenth-century costume, with her pink satin finery and powdered hair. But there was no mistaking the adulation in the boy's eyes, and even in the midst of her misery she felt a little glow of gratification. He was looking alluringly disreputable in his highwayman's dress, and the dark eyes shone upon her with fascinating audacity as he lifted her hand to his lips. "So you haven't brought Nick with you?" he said, speaking with laughing haste to cut short her half-hearted rebuke. "No, Nick was called away," she said. "He'll come later if he can." "Called away, was he?" Noel paused, with her programme in his hand. "Is that what you are looking so worried about?" She tried to laugh. "Yes, I am rather worried about him. I am afraid he is taking--big risks." "Little idiot!" said Noel. "When he's got you to look after. But what do you mean by risks? Where has he gone?" "I don't know," she said, with a shake of the head. "I don't know anything, Noel. He said something about going to see a moonstone, but I think that was only a blind. He can be rather subtle, you know, when he likes." "Confound him!" said Noel. "Why doesn't he turn his attention to taking care of you? I've been wanting to have a talk to you for days, but I couldn't work it somehow." Olga held out her hand for her programme; it shook ever so slightly. "I don't think we have anything very important to talk about," she said. "But we have!" he said impetuously. "At least I have. Oh, damn!--a million apologies! I couldn't help it!--here's that brute Hunt-Goring. You're not going to dance with him? Say you're full up!" Hunt-Goring, attired as a Turk, was crossing the room towards them. Olga cast a single glance over her shoulder, and turned to Noel with panic in her eyes. "I've forgotten something," she said in a palpitating whisper. "I must run back to the cloak-room. Wait for me!" She was gone with the words, fleeing like a hunted creature, till the gathering crowd hid her from sight. Hunt-Goring smiled, and turned aside. He had no pressing desire for a public meeting. His turn was coming,--the very fact of her flight proclaimed it,--and he could very well afford to wait. He would make her pay full measure for that same waiting. He passed Noel's scowl with a lazy sneer. The young man would pay also, and that reflection was nectar to his soul. Carelessly he betook himself to the verandah. The dancing did not attract him--so he had told Daisy Musgrave earlier in the day, a remark of which she had been swift to take advantage. For her weariness of her guest was very nearly apparent by that time, and it was a relief to be able to relax her duties as hostess for that evening at least.