Daisy Musgrave’s answer was instant and very heartfelt.  “Oh, not yet, thank Heaven!  We have three months more together, Will and I.”

“You must make him leave his beastly old reservoir to the sub when the hot weather comes,” said Nick, “and go for a honeymoon with you.”

“If he only could!” said Daisy.

A sombre smile crossed Will’s face as he turned it towards his wife.  “I’m listening, Daisy,” he said.

She came quickly to his side, and in the semi-darkness Olga saw her hand slip within his arm.  “I’m feeling sentimental to-night,” she said, in a voice that tried hard to be gay.  “It’s Nick’s fault.  Will, I want another honeymoon.”

“My dear,” he made answer in his deep, quiet voice, “you shall have one.”

The rattle of squibs drowned all further speech, and under cover of it Olga made her way to Nick.

“They’re awfully fond of each other, those two,” she confided to him.

“Bless their hearts!  Why shouldn’t they?” said Nick tolerantly.  “Are you getting tired, my chicken?  Do you want to go home to roost?”

She was a little tired, but he was not to hurry on her account.  “It’s quite restful out here,” she said.

He put his arm about her.  “What did the infant Don Juan talk about all dinner-time?”

She laughed with a touch of diffidence.  “He is quite a nice boy, Nick.”

“What ho!” said Nick.  “I thought he was making the most of his time.”

She pinched his fingers admonishingly.  “Don’t be a pig, Nick!  We—­we talked of Max—­part of the time.”

“Oh, did we?” said Nick.

“Yes.  Did you know he was thinking of leaving Dad?”

“I did,” said Nick.

There was a moment’s silence; then:  “Dear, why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice very low.

“Dear, why should I?” said Nick.

She did not answer, though his flippant tone set her more or less at her ease.

“Any more questions to ask?” enquired Nick, after a pause.

With an effort she overcame her reticence.  “He has actually gone then?”

“Bag and baggage,” said Nick.

“Nick, why?”

“I understand he never was a fixture,” said Nick.

“No.  I know.  But—­but—­I didn’t think of his going so soon,” she murmured.

“You don’t seem pleased,” said Nick.

“You see, I had got so used to him,” she explained.  “He was like a bit of home.”

“I’m sure he would be vastly flattered to hear you say so,” said Nick.

She laughed rather dubiously.  “Has Dad got another assistant then?”

“I don’t know.  Very likely.  You had better ask him when you write.”

“And he has gone back to Sir Kersley Whitton?” she ventured.

“My information does not extend so far as that,” said Nick.

She turned her attention to the blaze of coloured fire below them, and was silent for a space.