“You won’t sleep if you do,” said Olga magisterially.

“You shan’t read any more.  It’s a disgusting, filthy book and you shan’t have it.  Get up and dress, and don’t be horrid!”

“Horrid!” Violet broke into a gay laugh and the strained look passed in a moment from her eyes.  “I was all that was beautiful a little while ago.  You’re quite right though.  It is a foul book, and the man who wrote it is a downright beast.  Take it away, and never let me see it again!”

She sprang from the bed, and began to do up her hair rapidly before the glass.  Olga laid down the book, and busied herself with folding the various articles of raiment that littered the room.

“I think we ought to be quick,” she said.

“To be sure!  We mustn’t keep his Objectionable Majesty waiting.  Why didn’t you bring him up with you?  It would have kept him amused.”

“Violet!  As if I could!”

“Oh, couldn’t you?  I thought doctors were allowed anywhere.  And I am sure this young man of yours is not lightly shocked.  What was he doing at Redlands?”

Olga hesitated momentarily.  “He had been sent for to ‘The Ship,’ to attend old Mrs. Stubbs,” she said then.  “But he didn’t get there in time.”

“Oh!  Is she dead?  I should think he is pretty savage with her, isn’t he?”

“Why should you think so?” Olga glanced round in surprise.

“He’s the sort of person to resent anyone dying without his express permission, I should imagine.  I know I should never dare to die with him looking on;” Lightly the gay voice made answer.  The speaker turned from the glass, her vivid face aglow with merriment.  “Really, Olga, if you’re quite determined to do my packing, I think I will run down and entertain him.”

“You needn’t trouble to do that.  He is with your brother.”  Olga proceeded deftly with her task as she spoke.  “We found him in the hall as we came in.”

“Bruce back already!  How tiresome of him!  I meant to have just left a message, and now we shall have a wordy argument instead.”

“Is Colonel Campion ever wordy?” asked Olga, trying to imagine this phenomenon.

“No, I supply the words and he the argument generally.  You might just hook me down the back, dear; do you mind?  What do you think his latest craze is?  Mrs. Bruce is run down, so nothing will serve but we must all go for a yachting cruise in the Atlantic.  I have told him flatly that I will not be one of the party.  I detest being on the sea, and as to being boxed up in a yacht with those two—­my dear, it would be unspeakable!  I should simply leap overboard, I know I should, and I told him so.  He has sulked ever since.”

“Ah well, you are coming to us,” said Olga consolingly.  “So he can go without you now with a clear conscience.”

“So he can.  Mrs. Bruce will be enchanted.  She hates me, though she pretends not to and thinks I don’t know.  Isn’t it funny of her?  Allegro, you’re a darling!” Impulsively she whizzed round and kissed her friend.  “You are the one person in the world who loves me, and the only one I love!”