"Don't let him be worried about me," said Olga. "I really don't know why
I'm being so lazy. I feel quite well."
"And look—charming," supplemented Nick.
"Don't be silly, dear! You know I'm as hideous as—"
"As I am? Oh, no, not quite, believe me. I always pride myself I am unique in that respect. Now you mustn't talk," said Nick judiciously, "or you will spoil my inspiration. Who's that going across the lawn?"
He was writing rapidly as he spoke. Olga raised herself on her elbow to look.
"How on earth did you know? I never heard anyone. Oh!"
"What's the matter?" said Nick.
"It's Major Hunt-Goring!"
Nick ceased to write and peered into the garden. "It's all right. He's only violeting. An interesting pastime!" He turned unexpectedly and gave her one of his shrewd glances. "You don't seem pleased," he observed.
"Oh, Nick, he's so hateful! And—and Violet actually likes him."