"But you have!" she said.
He held her in his arms again. He kissed her drooping lips. "Well, if I have," he said, "it's the faithful wound of a friend. Can't you forgive it?"
That Max should ever ask forgiveness was amazing. Her bitterness went out like the flare of a match. She laid her head against his neck.
"Max—dear, I didn't mean to be horrid!"
"You couldn't be if you tried," he said.
She clung faster to him. "How can you say so? I've hardly ever been anything else to you."
"When are you going to reform?" said Max, with his lips against her forehead.
"Now," said Olga into his neck.
"Really?" Max's voice came down to her very softly. "Then—won't you say
Yes to the Midsummer Day project?"
She was silent for a little, as if considering the matter or summoning her resolution. Then with sudden impulse she lifted her face fully to his.