Violet’s beautiful eyes suddenly gleamed.  She moved to the door, stepping daintily with her bare feet.

“Dr. Wyndham,” she said, “I congratulate you on your conquest.  It has been a ridiculously easy capture, but I warned her she had met her fate long ago.  No doubt she has wisely decided that to run away any longer would be a waste of energy. En tout cas,—­” she made an airy gesture of the hands,—­“my blessing be upon you both!”

And with that, lightly she crossed the threshold, and was gone, flitting like a sunbeam from the room.

Quietly Max closed the door.  He did not look at Olga, but walked straight to the window and stood there with his back turned and his hands in his pockets, staring outwards.

“I hope you don’t object to an early visit,” he said, after a moment.  “I want to get my rounds done in good time to-day, and I didn’t like to leave without seeing you first.”

“I don’t mind at all,” stammered Olga in reply.  “But—­really, there’s no reason for you to—­to bother about me.  I’ve had a good night, and—­and I’m going to get up.”

“Really?” he said.  “You’re not going raspberry picking, I hope?”

She laughed somewhat tremulously.  Violet’s vindictive thrust had embarrassed rather than hurt her.  She looked at the great square shoulders that intervened between her eyes and the morning sunshine, and wondered why he did not turn.  Was it possible that he could be feeling embarrassed too?  She could scarcely imagine it; but yet the position was sufficiently intolerable for him also.

“I’m afraid the raspberries will have to go,” she said regretfully, “unless the boys—­”

“They would probably eat ’em as fast as they picked ’em,” observed Max grimly.  “I know boys.”

Again, rather feebly, she laughed.  “It seems a pity,” she said.

“I shouldn’t worry,” said Max.  “Besides, it’s Sunday.  You couldn’t make jam on Sunday in any case.”

“I could, though,” said Olga, “if the fruit wouldn’t keep till Monday.”

He laughed.  “What an admirably practical spirit!”

“Thank you!” said Olga.  “That’s the first nice thing you have ever said to me.”

“Oh, no, it isn’t!” said Max.  “May I come and take a survey now?”

“I can’t imagine what you are waiting for,” she returned with renewed spirit.

She could meet him on the old fencing-ground without a tremor; at least so she fancied.  But the next instant he disconcerted her in the most unexpected fashion.

“I have been waiting for your pulse to steady down,” he said coolly.

“Oh!” said Olga.

He left the window and came to her side.  She gave him her hand with an abrupt, childish movement.

“It’s great nonsense!” she said, with burning cheeks.  “You can’t possibly make me out ill.”

She saw one side of his mouth go up.  He took out his watch, but he looked at her.