"Highly suitable," Max said again.
Olga turned to him. "That's what Nick says. But it's such a long while for him to wait, poor boy."
"That wouldn't hurt him," said Max. "Do him all the good in the world, in fact. He's too much of a spoilt darling at present."
"Oh, Max, how can you say so? He is so splendid."
Max's mouth curved downwards. He said nothing.
"Max!" Olga's voice was anxious; it held a hint of pleading also, "you haven't—quarrelled, have you?"
Max turned deliberately and looked at her. "I never quarrel," he said.
"But you don't seem to be on very good terms," she said.
"The boy is such a puppy," Max said.
"Oh, he isn't!" she protested, flushing swiftly and very hotly. "He—he is the very nicest boy I know."