He stooped over her, searching her face. "Do you like being engaged,
Olga?" he asked.
She sat up quickly and leaned against him, her hands clasped upon his arm.
"I'm happy enough to—to want to cry," she said, a slight catch in her voice.
He held her closely again, her head against his heart. "No, that's not the reason," he said softly into her ear. "Something is bothering you, isn't it?"
She swallowed once or twice and nodded. "I'm—foolish," she managed to utter after a moment.
"Never mind if you can't help it!" he said. "Tell me what it's about!"
But she was silent.
"Afraid I shan't understand?" he questioned.
Her hand nestled into his, but she kept her face down. "I wrote a long, long letter to Dad last night," she remarked irrelevantly, after a pause. "He—I'm afraid he'll be rather surprised."
"I wonder," said Max.