Olga listened in horrified silence. So this was the secret of Max's peculiar behaviour! If he did not know by this time, then she did not know Max Wyndham.
"Yes," Violet went on. "Hunt-Goring is counting on those cigarettes of his to get me under his influence. I know. But I'm tired to death of the man. I'm going to pass him on to you."
"I hate him!" said Olga quickly.
"Oh, yes, dear! But he has his points. You'll find he can be quite amusing. Anyhow, take him off my hands for a spell. It isn't fair to make me do all your entertaining."
"Why don't you snub him?" said Olga, with some impatience. "It certainly isn't my fault that he comes here."
"Allegro, don't be horrid! I didn't refuse to help you when you wanted help." There was actually a pleading note in Violet's voice.
Olga responded to it instantly, with that ready warmth of hers that was the secret of her charm. "My dear, you know I would do anything in my power for you. But I can't—possibly—be nice to Major Hunt-Goring. I do detest him so."
"You detest Max Wyndham," said Violet quickly. "But you manage to be nice to him."
The words rang almost like an accusation. For the moment Olga felt quite incapable of replying. She lay in silence.
"Allegro!" Again she heard that note of pleading, vibrant this time, eager, almost passionate.