on. He led her to the table
and pulled forward a chair. She sank into it with a sudden shiver.

"Cold?" he said.

"Yes, horribly cold, Nick," she answered.

She tried to smile, but her lips were too stiff. A very curious feeling
was creeping over her, a species of cramp that was mental as well as
physical. She leaned back in her chair, staring straight before her,
seeing nothing.

Nick went round to the tea-pot. She heard him pouring out, but she could
not turn her head.

"I ought to do that," she said.

"All right, dear. I'm capable," he answered.

And then in his deft fashion he came to her with the cup, and sat on the
arm of her chair, holding it for her.

"Don't try to talk," he said. "Just drink this and sit still."

She leaned her head against him, feeling his vitality as one feels the
throb of an electric battery.

"Do you think God is angry with me, Nick?" she said. "She wanted to
go--so dreadfully."

"God is never angry with any of us," he answered softly. "We are not big
enough for that. There, drink it, sweetheart! It will do you good."

She raised her two hands slowly, feeling as if they were weighted with
iron fetters. With flickering eyes he watched her, in a fashion
compelling though physically he could not help. She lifted the cup and
drank.

The candlelight reeled and danced in her eyes. Her dazed senses began to
awake. "Nick!" she exclaimed suddenly and sharply.

"Here, darling!" came his prompt reply.

She set down the empty cup, and clasped her hands tightly together.
"Nick!" she said again, in a voice of rising distress.

His hand slid down and held hers. "What is it, kiddie?"

She turned to him impulsively. "Oh, Nick, I've made a great mistake--a
great mistake! I ought not to have let her go alone. She will be
frightened. I should have gone with her."

"My child," Nick said, "for God's sake--don't say any more! This isn't
the time."

And even as she wondered at the unwonted vehemence of his speech, she
knew that they were no longer alone.

Max came swiftly through the shadowy archway and moved straight towards
her. A white sling dangled from his neck, but it was empty. She thought
his hands were clenched.

Scarcely knowing what she did, she rose to meet him, forcing her rigid
limbs into action. He came to her; he took her by the shoulders.

"Olga," he said, "how did this happen?"

She faced him, but even as she did so she was conscious of an awful
coldness overwhelmin