"Yes, I shall be there. Keep the supper-dances for me! We'll find a quiet corner somewhere and enjoy ourselves. Till Thursday then! Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!" she said.
He was gone. Before her wide eyes he went away along the verandah, and passed from her sight, and there fell an intense silence.
Olga sat motionless as a statue, gazing straight before her. A squirrel skipped airily on to the further end of the verandah and sat there, washing its face. Below, on the path, a large lizard flicked out from behind a stone, looked hither and thither, spied the still figure, and darted away again. And then, somewhere away among the cypresses the silence was broken; a paroquet began to screech.
Olga stirred, and a great breath burst suddenly from her—the first she had drawn in many seconds. She stretched out her hands into emptiness.
"Oh, Max!" she said. "Max! Max!"
With that bitter cry, all her strength seemed to go from her. She bowed her head upon her knees and wept bitterly, despairingly….
It must have been a full quarter of an hour later that Nick came lightly along the verandah, paused an instant behind the bowed figure, then slipped round and knelt beside it.
"Kiddie! Kiddie! What's the matter?" he said.
His one arm gathered her to him, so that she lay against his shoulder in the old childish attitude, his cheek pressed against her forehead.