Noel turned to him, smiling persuasively. "Can't you take your breakfast into the garden, old chap? I want to thresh this matter out at once. I'm sure you have your niece's permission to retire."
But at that, Olga rose from the table. "Suppose we go into the garden,
Mr. Wyndham," she said.
Noel sprang up with a jingle of spurs. "By all means!"
"Get a hat, Olga!" said Nick.
She threw him a fleeting smile and departed.
Noel propped himself against the window-frame and waited. He did not appear greatly disconcerted by the turn of events. Without an effort he conversed with Nick on the chances of the forthcoming polo-match.
When Olga came along the verandah a minute later he stepped out and joined her with a smile.
They passed side by side down the winding path that led to the cypress walk. Olga's face was pale. She looked very full of resolution.
"I am quite sure you know what I am going to say," she said very quietly at length.
"You haven't wished me a happy Christmas yet," remarked Noel, still smiling his audacious smile. "Can it be that?"