"Do you catch my meaning yet?" asked Max, not to be thwarted.
She shook her head. "But really it doesn't matter, and it's getting late."
"Sorry to keep you," he replied imperturbably, "but when I take the trouble to expound my views, I like to guard against any misunderstanding. Just tell me this, and I shall be satisfied. If you were at a ball, and you had a partner you liked and who liked you, and you came upon your friend crying because she wanted that particular partner—would you give him up to her?"
"Of course I should," said Olga. "I don't call that a very serious self-sacrifice."
"No?" said Max. He gave her a very peculiar look, and pursed his lips for an instant as if about to whistle. "And if the unfortunate partner objected?"
Olga began vigorously to cut some bread. "He would have to put up with it," she said.
Max rose without comment and went to the ham. There followed a somewhat marked silence as he commenced to carve it. Then: "Pardon my persistence, fair lady," he said. "But just one more question—if you've no objection. Suppose you were my partner and Hunt-Goring the forlorn friend, do you think I should be justified in passing you on to him? It would be a considerable self-sacrifice on my part."
"Oh, really!" exclaimed Olga, in hot exasperation. "What absurd question will you ask next?"
He looked across at her with a complacent smile. "You see, I'm only a man," he said coolly. "But that illustrates my point. It's not always possible to pass on all one's possessions, is it? It may answer in theory but not in practice. I think you catch my meaning now?"
"Hadn't you better have your breakfast?" said Olga, with a glance at the clock.