"No, not yet. What may I do for you, madam?"
"Please do not come to-night," she implored.
Millar smiled deprecatingly. She went on rapidly, speaking in a low tone that she might not be overheard by Herman and Karl.
"I am myself again—a happy, dutiful wife. Your frivolous morals hurt me. Your words, your thoughts, your sinister influence that seems to force me against my will, frighten me. I must confess that I had become interested in your horrible sermon when, thank God, my good husband rang the bell and put an end to it. He came in at the proper moment."
"Yes, as an object-lesson," Millar sneered. "I observed you closely. We three were beginning to understand one another when he came in."
"Won't you drop the subject?" Olga asked.
"Are you afraid of it?"
"No," she answered coldly; "but please don't come to-night."
Millar bowed deeply, as if granting her request, but he replied coolly:
"I shall come."