But he was not minded to give them too much of his society, and presently he slipped away to take a peep at Peggy.

“I shan’t wake her,” he said; but apparently he found his small adorer awake, for he did not return.

“He’s a dear boy,” said Daisy.

Olga assented warmly.  “I shall love him for a brother.”

Daisy smiled faintly.  “Poor Noel!  I’m afraid that is scarcely the sort of appreciation he wants.”

Olga flushed.  She was standing near the window, her girlish face outlined against the dark.  Very young and slender she looked standing there, scarcely more than a child; and Daisy’s heart went out to her in a sudden rush of almost passionate tenderness.  She rose impulsively and joined her.  She slipped a warm arm round her waist.

Olga glanced at her in momentary surprise, then swiftly responded to the caress.  She leaned her cheek against Daisy’s shoulder.

“You see,” she said, “I met Max first.”

“I see, dear,” said Daisy.  She hesitated a moment.  “And Max is your ideal of all that a man should be?” she asked then.

“Oh, no!” said Olga.  She gave a little laugh.  “No; Nick is that, and always has been.  I don’t think anyone could idealize Max, do you?”

“But you love him?” said Daisy.

Olga looked at her with clear, direct eyes.  “Oh, yes, I love him.  But I don’t try to think he is nicer than he really is.  Nice or horrid, I love him just the same.”

“Do you know any horrid things about him, then?” Daisy asked.

Olga laughed again.  “I knew the horrid part of him first,” she said.  “Why, I—­I almost hated him once.”

“And then you changed your mind,” said Daisy.

The love-light glowed softly in Olga’s eyes as she answered, “Yes, dear Mrs. Musgrave; he made me.”

Daisy uttered a sharp, involuntary sigh.  “I hope he is all you believe him to be,” she said.

“But why do you say that?” questioned Olga.  “I’m afraid you don’t like him.”

Daisy hesitated.  “I am afraid I know too much about him,” she said at length.

Olga looked at her in surprise.  “Has Noel been telling you things?”

Daisy shook her head.

“Oh, then it’s that detestable Major Hunt-Goring!” said Olga, adding quickly:  “Please forgive me for running down your guest; but he really is a hateful man.”

“I don’t care for him myself, dear,” said Daisy.

“He has only come here to make mischief,” said Olga, with conviction.  “I guessed it the moment I saw him.  He hates me because—­because—­” she faltered a little—­“because I wouldn’t marry him.  As if I possibly could!” she ended fierily.  “And as if he would have really liked it if I had!”

“Oh, is that it?” said Daisy, in a tone of enlightenment.

Olga nodded.  “He’s a beast, Mrs. Musgrave.  And what has he been telling you about Max?”