"I shall tell him," Olga said wearily, with her hands clasped to her forehead, "never to speak to me again. I never want to see him. He must leave town immediately. To think he believed me capable of——"
"Of what?"
"Ah, it is all over," Olga cried, ignoring him. "I never want to see him again, because——"
"Because you love him?"
"Oh, no. After what has happened I hate him."
"I am very sorry, madam," Millar said contritely.
"You need not be," Olga assured him. "I am glad it happened. With all your cynicism you are clever and you have done me a great service. When I know that this letter is in his hands again I shall be perfectly happy," she went on, dipping her pen in the ink-well.
"You say I have helped you; let me render you one more service," Millar urged.
"What can that be?" Olga asked.
"I have begun this; let me finish it. Let me dictate this letter. You are excited. You cannot think of things to say. It must be firm, strong."