"Yes, of course, dear. Now really you must let me go and dress. It's eight o'clock, and I shan't be ready for breakfast." Violet came slowly away from the door. She did not look wholly satisfied, but she said no more; and Olga hastened back to her room with deadly misgiving at her heart. She felt as if there were tragedy in the very air. It seemed to be closing in upon her, a dread mist of unfathomable possibilities. She dressed with nervous haste, and hurried downstairs, wondering a little that Max had not bestirred himself to ascertain the effect of his treatment. She wondered still more when she found him calmly established behind the morning paper in an arm-chair in the dining-room. He laid it aside at her entrance, and rose to greet her. "Well?" he said, with her hand in his. She looked up to find his eyes piercingly upon her. They shone intensely green in the morning light. She removed her hand somewhat abruptly. There was something in his manner that she resented, without knowing why. "Well?" she said. "How do you find yourself this morning?" asked Max. "I'm perfectly well, thank you," said Olga briefly. "Ready to start jam-making?" he suggested. Olga went to the coffee-urn. "I really don't know," she said. "I've had other things to think about." He smiled a little, the superior, one-sided smile she most detested. "You mustn't let the fruit go bad," he observed, "after all my trouble." Olga peered into the coffee-urn, without replying. Max in an exasperating mood could be very exasperating indeed. He pulled out the chair next to her, and sat down. "And how is the beautiful Miss Campion?" he said. Olga looked at him. She could not help it. "Well?" said Max. She coloured hotly. "I wonder you haven't been to see for yourself," she said. "Perhaps I have," said Max. She turned from his open scrutiny, and began to pour out the coffee with a hand not wholly steady. "I presume--if you had--you wouldn't ask me," she said. He lodged his chin on his hand, the better to study her. "In making that presumption, fair lady," he said, "you are not wholly justified. Has it never occurred to you that I might entertain a certain veneration for your opinion on a limited number of subjects?" Olga set down the coffee-urn and squarely turned upon him. "Have you seen her this morning?" she asked him point-blank. "Yes, I have seen her," he said. "Then you know as much as I do," said Olga. "Not quite," he returned. "I soon shall however. Did she seem pleased to see you this morning?" "Of course," said Olga. "And why 'of course'? Do you never disagree?" He asked the question banteringly, yet his eyes were still upon her, unflaggingly intent. "We never quarrel," said Olga. "I see. You have differences of opinion; is that it? And what happens then? Is there never a tug of war?" Max's smile became speculative. "No, never," said Olga.