Nick turned his head to listen. "Now for one of our patent storms!" he said. "Brethaven always catches it pretty strong. Remember that night you developed scarlet fever, at Redlands, Olga mia, and your devoted servant went down to a certain cottage on the shore to fetch a certain lady to nurse you?"
Olga did remember. It was one of the cherished memories of her childhood. "I told Muriel a secret about you that night, Nick," she said, responding with an effort.
He nodded. "For which act of treachery you possess my undying gratitude.
Did you ever hear that story, Miss Campion?"
He offered her his cigarette-case with the words, and she turned her brooding eyes upon him. "Thanks!" she said. "I will have one of my own. Yes, I know that story. Your wife must be a very brave woman."
"She had me to take care of her," pointed out Nick.
Violet laughed with a touch of scorn.
"Oh, quite so," he said. "But I bear a charmed life, you should remember. No one ever drowns in my boat."
She leaned her chin upon her hand, and surveyed him through the weird twilight. "You are a strong man," she said slowly, "and you don't think much of Death."
"Not much," said Nick, striking a match on the heel of his boot.
The flame flared yellow on his face, emphasizing its many lines. His eyelids flickered rapidly, never wholly revealing the eyes behind.