Her heart gave a great leap of triumph as he took his hand away. But the next instant it stood still. For in the twinkling of an eye he had taken her by the shoulders holding her fast.
"That is the most foolish thing you ever did in your life," he said, and his words came curt and clipped as though he spoke them through his teeth.
Something about him restrained her from offering any resistance. She stood in silence, her heart jerking on again with wild palpitations. The grip of his hands was horribly close; she almost thought he was going to shake her. But his eyes under their bristling brows held her even more securely. Under their look she was suddenly hotly ashamed.
"You are going to make me that promise," he said.
But she stood silent, trying to muster strength to defy him.
"What do you want to go for?" he demanded.
"I want to know—I want to know—" She stammered over her answer; it was uttered against her will.
"Well? What?" Still holding her, he put the question. "I can tell you anything you want to know."
"But you won't!" Olga plucked up her spirit at this. "It's no good asking you anything. You never answer."
"I will answer you," he said.
"And besides—" said Olga.
"Yes?" said Max.
"You're so horrid," she burst out, "so cold-blooded, so—so—so unsympathetic!"
To her own amazement and dismay, she found herself in tears. In the same instant she was free and the door left unguarded; but she did not use her freedom to escape. Somehow she did not think of that. She only leaned against the wall with her hands over her face and wept.
Max, with his hands deep in his pockets, strolled about the room, whistling below his breath. The gleam had died out of his eyes, but the brows met fiercely above them. His face was the face of a man working out a difficult problem.
Suddenly he walked up to her, and stood still.
"Look here," he said; "can't you manage to be sensible for a minute? If you go on in this way you will soon get hysterical, and I don't think my treatment for hysterics would appeal to you. Olga, are you listening?"
Yes, she was listening—listening tensely, because she could not help herself.
"I'm sorry you think me a brute," he proceeded. "I don't think anyone else does, but that's a detail. I am also sorry that you're upset about old Mrs. Stubbs, though I don't see much sense in crying for her now her troubles are over. I think myself that it was just as well I didn't reach her in time. I should only have prolonged her misery. That's one of the grand obstacles in the medical career. I've kicked against it a good many times." He paused.
"She did suffer then?" whispered Olga, commanding herself with an effort.
"When she wasn't under the influence of morphia—yes. That was the only peace she knew. But of course it affected her brain. It always does, if you keep on with it."
Olga's hands fell. She straightened herself. "Then—you think she is better dead?" she said.
He squared his great shoulders, and she felt infinitely small. "If I could have followed my own inclination with that old woman," he said, "I should have given her a free pass long ago. But—I am not authorized to distribute free passes. On the contrary, it's my business to hang on to people to the bitter end, and not to let them through till they've paid for their liberty to the uttermost farthing."
She glanced at him quickly. Cynical as were his words, she was aware of a touch of genuine feeling somewhere. She made swift response to it, almost before she realized what she was doing.
"Oh, but surely the help you give far outweighs that!" she said. "I often think I will be a nurse when I am old enough, if Dad can spare me."
"Good heavens, child!" he said. "Do you want to be a gaoler too?"
"No," she answered quickly. "I'll be a deliverer."
He smiled his one-sided smile. "And I wonder how long you will call yourself that," he said.
She had no answer ready, for he seemed to utter his speculation out of knowledge and not ignorance. It made her feel a little cold, and after a moment she turned from the subject.
"I am going back to the Priory," she said. "Shall I take that book, or will you?"
It was capitulation, but he gave no sign that he so much as remembered that there had been a battle. Obviously then her defeat had been a foregone conclusion from the outset.
"You needn't bicycle back," he said. "I've got the car here. And I'm going to the Priory myself."
Olga's eyes opened wide at the announcement. "In—deed!" she said, with somewhat daring significance.
"In—deed!" he responded imperturbably. "Is it a joke?"
She felt herself colouring, and considered it safer to leave the question unanswered. "I can't go back in our car," she said. "Violet Campion will be with me, so I have come to fetch Nick's."
"Oh—ho!" said Max keenly. "Coming to stay?"
Very curiously she resented his keenness. "I suppose you have no objection," she said coldly.
"I am enchanted," he declared. "But why not come with me in the car? If you take the one from here, you will only have to bring it back, for you can't house it at Weir."
"But I should have to come back in any case to fetch my bicycle," Olga pointed out.
"No, you needn't! Mitchel can ride that home, and you can drive the motor. You can drive, I'm told?"
"Of course, I can. I often drive Dad." Olga spoke with pride.
"Do you really? Why did you never tell me that before? Afraid I should want you instead of Mitchel?" He looked at her quizzically.
"It wouldn't make much difference if you did," said Olga. It was really quite useless to attempt to be polite to him if he would come so persistently within snubbing distance. Besides, she really did not owe him any courtesy, after the way he had dared to treat her.
But he only laughed at her, and turned to the door. "I shouldn't be so cocksure of that if I were you," he said, opening it with a flourish. "I have a wonderful knack of getting what I want."
She flung him the gauntlet of her contemptuous defiance as she passed him. "Really?" she said.
He took it up instantly, with disconcerting assurance. "Yes, really," he said.
And to Olga all unbidden there came a sudden little tremor of shuddering remembrance as there flashed across her inner vision the spectacle of a green dragon-fly swooping upon a poor little fluttering scarlet moth.
CHAPTER IV
