"Do you want to know what he was up to last night?" said Nick.
"Yes, tell me!" said Olga.
"He was sent for last thing by some people who live in that filthy alley—near the green pond. A child was choking. They thought it had swallowed a pin. When he got there, he found it was diphtheria at its most advanced stage. The child was at death's door. He had to perform an operation at a moment's notice, hadn't got the proper paraphernalia with him, and sucked the poison out himself."
"Good heavens, Nick!" said Olga, turning very white. "And the child?"
"The child is better. It is to be taken to the hospital to-day."
"Will it—won't it—have an effect on him?" gasped Olga.
"Heavens knows," said Nick.
"And that's why he didn't come down to breakfast," she said. "How did you find out about it? He didn't tell you?"
"He couldn't help it," said Nick. "He stole my bath this morning, and when I arrived he was lying in it face downwards boiling himself in some filthy disinfectant that made the bathroom temporarily uninhabitable. Naturally I lodged a complaint, and finally got at the whole story. By the way, he said I wasn' to tell you; but I told him I probably should. That's only a detail, but I mention it in case you should be tempted to broach the subject to him. I shouldn't advise you to do so, as I think you will probably find him rather touchy about it."
"But, Nick!" Olga's eyes had begun to shine. "It was very—fine of him," she said. "I wish I'd known before I was so cross to him. I—I should have made allowances if I had known."