"He walked over with a broken thumb for me to mend," said Max, still grimly watching her. "It's some way back to The Warren, and he's a bit used up. I fancy your father would make him lunch here under the circumstances, but you must do as you think best. It's not my house." The colour sank rapidly from Olga's face under his look. "Oh, Dr. Wyndham," she said breathlessly, "do you think we need?" He frowned at her agitation. "Of course, we needn't," he said. "If you don't want him, he can go to 'The Swan.' He is in the surgery at the present moment. I must go back and see how he is getting on." "Wait a moment!" Olga broke in rapidly. "I--I'm afraid you're right. Dad would certainly keep him. Oh, why isn't Nick here? He needn't have chosen to-day to break this thumb." "Kismet!" said Max, with a cynical lift of the shoulders. "I gather you don't like the man?" She shrank at the question: it was almost a shudder. "No!" He turned to the door. "Well, pull yourself together. I daresay he won't eat you. And you'll have Miss Campion to protect you. She would be proof against a dozen monsters." He cast her a glance with the words that made her aware of a certain not very abstruse meaning behind them. Olga's cheeks burned again. Did he know, then? Had he guessed why Violet was in the house? Was that the reason of his curious vigilance, his guarded acceptance of her favours? She was possessed by an almost overwhelming desire to know, and yet no words could she find in which to ask. "Well?" said Max, pausing in the act of opening the door. "You were going to say--" She raised her eyes with a conscious effort, and nerved herself to speak. "Max," she said desperately, "please don't mind my asking! It isn't from idle curiosity. Do you like her?" She saw the rough red brows go up, and swiftly repented her temerity. "I only asked," she faltered, "because--" "Well?" Max said again. "It would be interesting to know why you asked." She compelled herself to answer him, or perhaps it was he who compelled. In any case, with her head bent, her answer came. "I had been thinking that perhaps you were getting fond of her, and--and--I should be sorry if that happened, because I know she isn't in earnest. I know she is only playing with you." The words ran cut in a whisper. She dared not look at him. She could only watch with fascinated eyes the brown fingers that gripped the door-knob. "She has told you that?" asked Max. She quivered at the question. It was horribly difficult to answer. "I know it is so," she murmured. She was thankful that he did not press her to be more explicit. He stood for a moment in silence; then: "Isn't it possible," he said in a very level tone, "for a woman to set out to catch a man and to end by being caught herself?" "Not for Violet," said Olga. "I wonder," said Max. She looked up at him quickly, caught by something in his tone. His eyes, alert and green, looked straight into hers.