"Fact of the matter is," proceeded Nick, "you're spoilt. It's high time I put my foot down. If you don't wake up, I'll make you take a cold bath every morning and swing dumb-bells for half an hour after it."
She began to laugh. "I love to see you playing tyrant, Nick."
He let her go. "I'm not playing, my child. I'm in sober, deadly earnest. Have you made up your mind yet what you're going to say to young Noel when he asks you to marry him?"
She started. "Oh, really, Nick!" she said again, this time with a touch of annoyance in her tone.
He smiled as he heard it. "It's coming, I assure you. You see, the station is short of girls, and our young friend is impressionable. He is the sort of amorous swain who gets engaged to a dozen before he settles down to marriage with one. The question for you to decide is, are you going to be one of the dozen?"
"No, that I certainly am not." Olga spoke with undoubted emphasis, and having spoken rose and laid her hands upon Nick's shoulders. "I don't think he would be so silly as to ask me," she said. "And if he did, I certainly should not be silly enough to say Yes."
"I'm glad to hear that anyway," said Nick briskly. "I was afraid you might accept him out of sheer boredom."
"Nick! I'm not bored!"
He looked at her quizzically, as if he did not quite believe her.
"I am not bored," she reiterated, with something like vehemence. "I am happier with you than with anyone else in the world."