"Yes, I am tired," she said sadly.
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright. As she stood leaning against the table Herman thought her prettier than he had ever seen her before. He went up to her, took her hands in his and kissed her.
"You seem excited, too," he said. "It makes you prettier, and I like it, my dear, sweet, darling wife."
Olga shrank from his caress so obviously that Herman was hurt. She withdrew her hands.
"Please don't," she said. "I am awfully nervous."
"Your cheeks are burning, dear," he said, touching them.
"Don't, Herman; I wish to be alone for a few minutes; to rest all alone. Please leave me here."
"Very well, it shall be as you wish," Herman replied, adding as he left the room:
"But it would be better if you went to sleep."
A servant entered, and Olga signed to him to extinguish the lights. In a few moments she was alone, in semi-darkness, the room being partially lighted by the reflected light from the garden lamps. As she sat there, the tall, sinister figure of Millar, in his fur overcoat and his top hat, passed the window.