Nick laughed flippantly. "Even treachery is a useful quality sometimes," he declared, as he turned to go. "Don't you worry yourself, my boy. I can walk on cat's ice as well as anyone I know."
He was gone, humming his favourite waltz as he departed; and Noel turned back to his partner with a grunt of discontent.
"He'll play that game once too often if he isn't careful," he said.
"Is there really any danger?" Olga asked.
"I should say so," he answered, "but it seems I am of no account."
"Oh, he didn't mean that," she said quickly.
He looked at her. "He is not the only person who thinks so, Olga."
She slipped a friendly hand on to his arm. "Noel," she said, "you don't think I think so, do you?"
He laid his hand on hers and pressed it silently. They stood together in the semi-darkness, isolated for the moment, very intimately alone.
"Noel," Olga whispered at length, a tremor of distress in the words, "you mustn't think that; please—please, you must never think that!"