"Lemon?" he asked briefly.
"No, thanks. I'll have a plain soda. And if you've no objection we will thresh this matter out at once as I have to be off in ten minutes. I suppose you took in what I said just now?"
Noel held out a glass to him, his brown hand not quite steady. "May as well be explicit," he said gruffly.
"Quite so. Then my engagement to Olga Ratcliffe is at an end. Is that plain enough for you?"
Again the boy's eyes glanced upwards, meeting the imperturbable green eyes opposite for the fraction of a second. "Really?" he said.
"Yes, really." Max took a slow gulp from his glass and set it down.
"Pleased?" he enquired.
Noel did not answer. His own drink remained untouched at his elbow.
"Whose doing is it?" he enquired.
"Hers."
"What! Doesn't she care for you after all?" There was a sudden quiver in the question that belied the studied calm of the speaker.
Max took up his glass and drank again. "She can't stand me at any price," he said.