"It had to be done," said Olga. "I must finish now--really I must finish." She took his hand from her head and slowly raised it. Instantly that agonizing pain shot through her temples again. She barely suppressed a cry. "What is it?" he said. "My head!" she gasped. "And oh, Max, I do feel so sick." He stood up. "Come along!" he said. "I'm going to carry you in." She raised a feeble protest to which he paid no more attention than if it had been the buzzing of a fly. Very steadily and strongly he lifted her. "Put your head on my shoulder!" he said, and she obeyed him like a child. They encountered no one on the way back to the house. Straight in and straight upstairs went Max, finally depositing her upon her bed. He seemed to know exactly how she felt, for he propped her head high with a skill that she found infinitely comforting, and drew the window-curtains to shade her eyes. Then very quietly he proceeded to remove her shoes. "Thank you very much," murmured Olga. "Don't bother!" He came and stood beside her and again felt her pulse. "Look here," he said. "As soon as you feel a little better, you undress and slip into bed. I'll come up again in half an hour and give you something for your head. Understand?" "Oh, no!" Olga said. "No! I can't go to bed, really. I'll lie here for a little while, but I shall be quite all right presently." Max continued to feel her pulse. He was frowning a good deal. "You will do as I say," he said deliberately. "You are to go to bed at once, and you won't come down again for the rest of the day." There was so much of finality in his speech that Olga became aware of the futility of argument. She felt moreover totally unfit for it. She only hazarded one more protest. "But what about Violet?" "She can take care of herself," he said. "I will tell her." There was no help for it. Olga gave in without further protest. But she did venture to say as he released her hand, "Please don't bother about bringing me anything! I couldn't possibly take it." "Leave that to me!" said Max brusquely. He left her then, to her unutterable relief. There was no doubt about it; she was feeling very ill, so ill that the business of undressing was almost more than she could accomplish. But she did manage it at last, and crept thankfully into bed, laying her throbbing head upon the pillow with the vague wonder if she would ever have the strength to lift it again. From that she drifted into a maze of pain that blurred all thought, and from which she only roused herself to find Max once more by her side. He was watching her closely. "Is your head very bad?" he asked. "Yes," she whispered. "I've got some stuff here that will soothe it," he said. "Just drink it down, and then see if you can get a sleep." His tone was so gentle that had her pain been less severe Olga might have found room for amazement. As it was, she began very weakly to cry. "Now don't be silly!" said Max. "You needn't move. I'll do it all."