"But now it's all right," smiled Daisy. "Run back to him, dear child! I should imagine he is the sort of young man who doesn't like to be kept waiting."
That was all the criticism she permitted herself, but Olga, returning slowly to Max on the verandah, was regretfully aware that the impression he had made upon this friend of hers was far from favourable.
"It isn't nice of you, Max," she began, as she reached him. "It really isn't nice of you."
But she got no further than that for the moment, for Max literally lifted her off her feet, holding her fast in his arms while he kissed the colour into her white face, finally lowering her into Nick's favourite hammock and dexterously settling her therein.
"You shouldn't!" she protested feebly. "You shouldn't! And indeed I'm not going to lie here."
"You are going to do as you are told, fair lady," he responded grimly.
"What have you been lying awake half the night for?"
"I didn't," she began. "At least—" seeing his look of open incredulity—"it couldn't have been so long as that. And I—I had a lot of things to think about. No, Max, you're not to feel my pulse! Max, I won't have it!"
She pulled desperately, and freed herself. Max thrust his hands into his pockets, faintly smiling, and stood over her, contemplating her.
"Well, tell me all the things you had to think about!" he said.
She shook her head, flushed still and slightly distressed. "No, Max."