They passed into the drawing-room with the lazy, tolerant air of men expecting to be amused; and Olga, with all her keenness, was very far from suspecting aught of what had just passed between them. She and Violet were both near the open window, the latter with her instrument lying on her knee, its crimson ribbons streaming to the floor. She herself was very simply attired in white. The vivid beauty of her outlined against the darkness of the open French window was such as to be almost startling. She smiled a sparkling welcome. "Dr. Wyndham, I've decided to call you Max; not because I like it,--I think it's hideous,--but because it's less trouble. I thought it as well to explain at the outset, so that there should be no misunderstanding." "That is very gracious of you," said Max. "You may regard it exactly as you please," she said majestically, "so long as you come when you're called. Allegretto, why do you move? I like you sitting there." "I promised to go and say good-night to the boys," said Olga, who had sprung up somewhat precipitately at Max's approach. "Sit on the sofa, Nick, and keep a corner for me! I'm coming back." She was gone with the words, a vanishing grey vision, the quick closing of the door shutting her from sight. Violet leaned back in her chair, and dared the full scrutiny of Max's eyes. "What a disturber of the peace you are!" she said. "What did you want to come here for before you had finished your smoke?" "That was your doing," said Nick. "You literally dragged us hither. I'm inclined to think it was you who disturbed the peace." "I?" She turned upon him. "Captain Ratcliffe--" "Pray call me Nick!" he interposed. "It will save such a vast amount of trouble as well as keep you in the fashion." She laughed. "You're much funnier than Max because you don't try to be. What do you mean by saying that I dragged you here? Was it that silly old song?" "In part," said Nick cautiously. "And the other part?" "I won't put that into words. It would sound fulsome." "Oh, please don't!" she said lightly. "And you, Max, what did you come for?" He seated himself in the chair which Olga had vacated. "I thought it was time someone came to look after you," he said. "How inane! You don't pretend to be musical, I hope?" He leaned back, directly facing her. "No," he said. "I don't pretend." "Never?" she said. He smiled in his own enigmatical fashion. "That is the sort of question I never answer." She nodded gaily. "I knew you wouldn't. Why do you look at me like that? I feel as if I were being dissected. I don't wonder that Olga runs away when she sees you coming. I shall myself in a minute." He laughed. "Surely you are accustomed to being looked at!" "With reverence," she supplemented, "not criticism! You have the eye of a calculating apothecary. I believe you regard everybody you meet in the light of a possible patient." "Naturally," said Max. "I suppose even you are mortal."