"Besides, it's Sunday. You couldn't make
jam on Sunday in any case."

"I could, though," said Olga, "if the fruit wouldn't keep till Monday."

He laughed. "What an admirably practical spirit!"

"Thank you!" said Olga. "That's the first nice thing you have ever said
to me."

"Oh, no, it isn't!" said Max. "May I come and take a survey now?"

"I can't imagine what you are waiting for," she returned with renewed
spirit.

She could meet him on the old fencing-ground without a tremor; at least
so she fancied. But the next instant he disconcerted her in the most
unexpected fashion.

"I have been waiting for your pulse to steady down," he said coolly.

"Oh!" said Olga.

He left the window and came to her side. She gave him her hand with an
abrupt, childish movement.

"It's great nonsense!" she said, with burning cheeks. "You can't
possibly make me out ill."

She saw one side of his mouth go up. He took out his watch, but he
looked at her.

"You don't imagine that I want to keep you as a patient, do you?" he
said.

"You know you always like people best when they are ill," she retorted.

"Do I?" he said.

"Well, don't you?"

"I wonder what makes you think so," he said.

She looked straight up at him with something of defiance. "You never
bother to be nice to people unless they are ill."

He frowned a little. "I've been as nice as you would let me," he said.

"Yes, yes," said Olga rather hurriedly. "Of course we are friends. But,
Max, there's something I want to say to you. It's very particular. Be
quick with my pulse!"

He let her hand slip from his. "It's about a hundred and fifty," he
observed, "but that seems to be the normal rate with you. I don't think
you had better talk to me now unless it's to be a professional
consultation. You can get up if you want to, and I will give Nick a list
of the things you are not to do."

He would have gone with the words, but imperiously she detained him.

"You must wait a minute now. I want to speak about--about that compact
we made the other day. You--you knew I was only joking, didn't you? You
didn't--really--? tell Major Hunt-Goring--that?"

"Yes, I did," said Max. "And do you generally go and cry into the
surgery towel when you are enjoying a joke?"

"Oh, Max! You told him?" Her face was tragic. "And what did he say?"

"He congratulated me," said Max.

"Max!"

"My dear girl, I'm telling you the truth; but really, since you have
discharged yourself as