tretched.

"What's the matter, Allegretto? You look as if you had had a glimpse of
the conqueror of conquerors yourself. I shall have to come and sleep
with you to frighten away the spooks."

"I don't think I shall ever dare to go to bed at all after that," said
Nick.

She laughed at him lazily. "Get Max to sit up with you and hold your
hand! The very sight of him would scare away all bogies."

"The sign of a wholesome mind," said Max.

She turned towards him. "Not at all! Scepticism only indicates gross
materialism and lack of imagination. There is nothing at all to be proud
of in the possession of a low grade of intelligence."

Max's mouth went down, and Violet's face flashed into her most
bewitching smile.

"I don't often get the opportunity to jeer at a genius," she said. "You
know that I am one of your most ardent admirers, don't you?"

"Is that the preliminary to asking a favour?" said Max.

She broke into a light laugh. "No, I never ask favours. I always take
what I want. It's much the quickest way."

"Saves trouble, too," he suggested.

"It does," she agreed. "I am sure you follow the same plan yourself."

"Invariably," said Max.

"It's a plan that doesn't always answer," observed Nick, in a
grandfatherly tone. "I shouldn't recommend it to everybody."

"And it's horribly selfish," put in Olga.

"My dear child, don't be so frightfully moral!" protested Violet. "I
can't rise to it. Nick, why doesn't it always answer to take what one
wants?"

"Because one doesn't always succeed in keeping it," said Nick.

"He means," said Max, a spark of humour in his eyes, "that a
champion,--no, a chaperon--sometimes comes along to the rescue of the
stolen article. But--from what I've seen of life--I scarcely think the
odds would be on the side of the chaperon. What is your opinion, Miss
Campion?"

"If the chaperon were Nick, I should certainly put my money on him," she
answered lightly.

"And lose it!" said Max.

"And win it!" said Olga.

"Order! Order!" commanded Nick. "Once more I refuse to be the bone of
contention between you. You will tear me to shreds among you, and even
the great Dr. Wyndham might find some difficulty in putting me together
again. Olga, give us some music!"

"I can't, dear," said Olga.

He frowned at her. "Why not?"

She hesitated. "I'm not in the mood for it. At least--"

"Am I the obstacle?" asked Max.

She could not control her colour, though she strove resolutely to a