He stooped for a final kiss. "I daresay—if you were to ask him prettily—he would tell you."
"Oh, no, he wouldn't," she said. "He never tells me anything, even if I beg him." She slipped her arms round his neck and held him closely for a moment. "Nick darling, you will work that lovely scheme of ours if you possibly can—promise me!—in spite of anything Max may say or do!"
"You don't mind hurting his feelings?" asked Nick.
"Oh, well,"—she hesitated—"he couldn't care all that. It's only his love of interference."
"Or his love of you? I wonder which!" whispered Nick.
"Nick! Nick!" Wonder, dismay, incredulity, mingled in the cry.
But Nick had already slipped free from the clinging of her arms, and he did not pause in answer.
"Good-night, Olga mia!" he called back to her softly from the door.
"Don't forget to knock on the wall if you feel squeamish!"
And with that he was gone. The latch clicked behind him, and she was alone.