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.
"Did you really think I was falling in love with her?" he said.
Olga hesitated.
"She thinks so?" he questioned.
"Yes." Against her will she answered. It was as if he wrung the word from her.
He smiled a grim smile. "Many thanks for your warning!" he said. "I take a deep interest in Miss Campion, as you seem to have divined. But the danger of my falling a victim to her charms is very remote. You need harbour no further anxieties on my account."
He opened the door as he spoke, and Olga passed out, uncertain whether to be glad or sorry that she had brought herself to speak.
She went upstairs to Violet and acquainted her with the fact of Major
Hunt-Goring's presence and its cause.
"I do wish Nick had been here," she said in conclusion.
"He may elect to stay for ever so long. I don't know what we shall do with him."
Violet, however, was by no means dismayed by the prospect. "Oh, I enjoy
Major Hunt-Goring," she said. "You leave him to me. I'll entertain him."
"Hateful man!" said Olga.
Whereat Violet laughed and pinched her cheek. "You know you like him!"
"I detest him!" said Olga quickly.
It was certainly with no excess of cordiality that a few minutes later she greeted her guest. He was standing in the hall with one arm in a sling when she and Violet descended the stairs, an immense man of about five-and-forty with a very decided military bearing and dark eyes of covert insolence.
Max was with him, and Olga experienced a very novel feeling of relief to see him there. She advanced and shook hands with extreme frigidity.
"I am sorry you have had an accident," she said.
"Very good of you," said Major Hunt-Goring, his eyes boldly passing her to rest upon Violet. "Managed to crack my thumb tinkering at my old motor. Dr. Wyndham tells me that you have been kind enough to ask me to lunch. How do you do, Miss Campion? Charmed to meet you! Someone told me you were yachting in the Atlantic."
"Heaven forbid!" said Violet. "Yachting is simply another word for imprisonment to me. I told Bruce I should certainly drown myself if I went with them."
"I should like to introduce you to a form of yachting that is not imprisonment," said Hunt-Goring.
Violet laughed. "Oh, I should have to be mistress of the yacht for that."
"Even so," he rejoined significantly.
"And I shouldn't have any men on board with the exception of the sailors," she went on.
"And the captain," said Hunt-Goring.
"Oh, dear me, no! I would be my own captain."
"You'd be horribly bored before the first week was out," observed the major, as he followed her into the dining-room.
She laughed gaily. "There isn't a single man of my acquaintance in whose company I shouldn't be bored to extinction long before that."
"Oh, come!" he protested. "You don't speak from experience. You condemn us untried."
"I know you all too well," laughed Violet.
"You know me not at all," declared Hunt-Goring. "I appeal to Miss
Ratcliffe. Am I the sort of man to bore a woman?"
"I am no judge," said Olga somewhat hastily. "I never have time to be bored with anyone. Will you sit here, please? I am sorry to say my uncle is in town to-day."
"Where are the three boys?" asked Max.
Olga turned to him with relief. "They have gone for an all-day paper-chase with the Rectory crowd and taken lunch with them."
"Why didn't you go too?" he asked. "Too lazy?"
"Too
