She leaned her head against him.  “I’d like to say Yes,” she said.  “But somehow—­somehow—­I have a feeling that—­that—­”

“My dear,” said Max very practically, “don’t be silly!”

She turned and clung to him very tightly.  “Max, I—­I’ve got something—­on my mind.”

His arm, very steady and strong, grew close about her.  “Tell me!” he said.

Haltingly she complied.  “You will think me morbid.  I can’t help it.  Max, all last night—­all last night—­I felt as if—­as if a spirit were with me—­calling—­calling—­calling, trying to make me understand something, trying to—­to warn me—­of some danger—­I couldn’t see.”

She broke off in tears.  It seemed impossible to put the thing into words.  It was so intangible yet in her eyes so portentous.  Max’s hand was on her head, stilling her agitation.  She wondered if he thought her very absurd, but he did not leave her long in doubt.

“There’s nothing to cry about, my dear,” he said.  “Your nerves were a bit strung up after the tiger episode, that’s all.  They will quiet down in a day or two.  All the same”—­his hand pressed a little—­“I’m glad you told me.  A trouble shared is only half a trouble, is it?  And I have a right to all your troubles now.”

He took her handkerchief, and dried her eyes with the utmost kindness; then turned her face gently upwards.

“Is that quite all?” he asked.

She tried to smile, with quivering lips.

“Not quite?” he questioned.  “Come, I may as well know, mayn’t I?”

“I don’t know that there is anything gained by telling you,” she said.  “You never liked talking about your cases to me.”

He frowned a little.  “My dear girl, what particular case is it you have on your mind?”

She hesitated.  “You won’t be vexed?”

“Vexed?  No!” he said; but he continued to frown slightly notwithstanding.

“I hope you won’t be,” Olga said, “because I simply can’t argue about it.  Max, I sometimes think to myself that if—­you hadn’t known—­and Violet hadn’t come to know—­about—­about her mother—­things might have been—­very different.”

“Meaning I should have fallen in love with her?” said Max.

She nodded.  “It may be a breach of confidence, but—­I think I’ll tell you now.  Max, she cared for you.”

She spoke the words with an effort, her eyes turned from him.  Perhaps she was afraid that she might encounter cynicism in the vigilant green eyes, and she could not have endured it at that moment.

But at least there was none in his voice when he said:  “Yes, I know she did.  That was what made her hate me so badly afterwards.  I am very sorry, Olga; but, for your comfort let me tell you this.  I should never—­under any circumstances—­have come to care for her.  You won’t like me for saying it, but she was never more to me than a very interesting case, and, apart from medical investigation, she would simply not have existed so far as I was concerned.  She didn’t appeal to me.”