"Why?" Violet turned back to him, her fingers carelessly plucking at the instrument on her knee.
Max made prompt and unflattering reply. "Because he's so obviously gimcrack that no one dares do anything to him for fear he should tumble to pieces."
"Many thanks!" said Nick.
Violet's peal of laughter mingled with the weird notes of her mandolin, and Olga, returning, desired to be told the joke.
Nick pulled her down beside him on the sofa. "Come and take care of me,
Olga mia! I'm being disgracefully maligned. Can't you persuade Miss
Campion to sing to us, by way of changing the subject?"
"Who has been maligning you?" demanded Olga, looking at Max with very bright eyes.
He looked straight back at her with that gleam in his eyes which with any other man would have denoted admiration but which with him she well knew to be only mockery.
"I admit it, fair lady," he said. "I threw a clod of mud at your hero. I thought it would be good for him. However, you will be relieved to hear that it went wide of the mark. He still sits secure in his tight little shrine and smiles magnanimously at my futility."
Olga's hand slipped into Nick's. "He's the biggest man you've ever seen!" she declared, with warmth.
"Please don't fight over my body!" remonstrated Nick. "I never professed to be more than a minnow among Tritons, and quite a lean minnow at that."