“Couldn’t one?” said Violet.  “Wouldn’t you like to be a ranee, Allegro?  I would!” She looked at Olga with kindling eyes.  “Just think of it, dear!  The power, the magnificence, the jewels!  Oh, I believe I’d do anything for riches.”

“Violet!  I wouldn’t!”

Olga spoke with strong emphasis and Violet laughed—­a short, hard laugh.  “Oh, no, you wouldn’t, I know!  You were born to be a slave.  But I wasn’t.  I was born to be a queen, and a queen I’ll be—­or die!” She suddenly glanced about her with the peculiar, furtive look that Olga had noticed the day before.  “That’s why I wouldn’t marry Max Wyndham,” she said, “for all the riches in the world!  He is the One Impossible.”

Olga felt her colour rising.  She made response with an effort.  “Don’t you like him, then?”

“Like him!” Violet’s eyes came down to her.  They expressed a fiery chafing at restraint that made her think of a wild creature caged.  “My dear, what has that to do with it?  I wouldn’t marry a man who didn’t worship me, whatever my own feelings might be; and it isn’t in him to worship any woman.  No, he would only grind me under his heel, and I should probably kill him in the end and myself too.”  A passionate note crept into the deep voice.  It seemed to quiver on the verge of tragedy; and then again quite suddenly she laughed.  “But I don’t feel in the least murderous,” she said.  “In fact, I’m at peace with all the world just now.  Listen, Allegro!  You’ve told me your secret.  I’ll tell you one of mine.  But you must swear on your sacred honour that you will never repeat it to a soul.”

Olga was in a fashion used to this form of affidavit.  She had been the recipient of Violet’s secrets before.  She gave the required pledge with the utmost simplicity, little dreaming how soon she was to repent of it.

Violet leaned towards her and spoke in low, confidential tones.  “So amusing, dear!  I know you won’t mind for once.  It’s Hunt-Goring again.  He really is too ridiculous for words.  He has hired a yacht, you must know—­a nice little steam-yacht, Allegro.  He walked over this afternoon to tell me about it.  Don’t look so horrified!  There’s much worse to come.”  She laughed again under her breath.  “He has asked me—­in fact, persuaded me—­to go for a little trip in it one day next week.  Of course I said No at first; and then he said you could come too to make it proper; so I consented.  I’m sure you won’t mind for once, and a breath of sea air will do me good.”

She laid a hand of careless coaxing upon Olga’s shoulder.  But Olga’s demeanour was very far from acquiescent.

“But, Violet!” she exclaimed, “how could you possibly accept for me?  I’m not going!  No; indeed, I’m not!  Neither must you.  It’s the maddest project I ever heard of!  Whatever made you imagine for one moment that I would agree to go?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Allegro!” Violet sounded quite unmoved.  “Of course you’ll go, unless—­” she smiled a trifle maliciously—­“you mean me to go alone, as I certainly shall if you are going to be tiresome about it.  You wouldn’t like me to do that, I suppose?”