"Hateful man!" murmured Olga, looking after them. "How I wish he would go!"
"Leave them alone for a spell," advised Max. "Go and mend your stockings in peace! Miss Campion is quite equal to entertaining him unassisted."
But Olga hesitated to pursue this course, and finally collected her work and followed her two guests into the garden.
Max departed upon his rounds, and a very unpleasant sense of responsibility descended upon her.
She took up a central position under the lime-trees that bordered the tennis-court, but Major Hunt-Goring and Violet did not join her. They sauntered about the garden-paths just out of earshot, and several times it seemed to Olga that they were talking confidentially together. She wondered impatiently how Violet could endure the man at such close quarters. But then there were many things that Violet liked that she found quite unbearable.
Slowly the afternoon wore away. The young hostess still sat under the limes, severely darning, but Violet and her companion had disappeared unobtrusively into a more secluded part of the garden. For nearly half an hour she had heard no sound of voices. She wondered if she ought to go in search of them, but her pile of work was still somewhat formidable and she was both to leave it. She continued to darn therefore with unflagging energy, till suddenly a hand touched her shoulder and a man's voice spoke softly in her ear.
"Hullo, little one! All alone? What has become of the fiery-headed assistant?"
She flung his hand away with a violent gesture. So engrossed had she been with getting through her work that she had not heard his step upon the grass.
"Are you just off?" she asked him frigidly. "Will you have anything before you go?"
Hunt-Goring laughed—a soft, unpleasant laugh. "Many thanks!" he said. "I was just asking myself that question. Generous of you to suggest it though. Perhaps you—like myself—are feeling bored."