“So am I,” said Nick.

They faced one another for a moment in open conflict; then half-contemptuously Max made an appeal.

“Don’t let us be fools!” he said.  “It’s for her sake I want you to go.  I’ll tell you why later.  If you butt in now, you will make the biggest mistake of your life.”

“Take your hands off me!” said Nick.

He complied.  Nick went straight to Olga.  “Olga,” he said, “for Heaven’s sake, be reasonable!  Give him a chance to set things straight!”

It was urgently spoken.  His hand, vital and very insistent, closed upon one of hers, drawing it down from her face.

She looked at him with hunted eyes.  “Nick,” she said, “tell him—­to go!”

“I can’t, dear,” he made answer.  “You’ve made an accusation that no man could take lying down.  You’ll have to face it out now.”

“But it’s the truth!” she said.

“It’s a damnable lie!” said Nick.

“Nick,” it was Max’s voice measured and deliberate, “will you leave me to deal with this?”

Olga’s hand turned in Nick’s and clung to it.  “You needn’t go, Nick,” she said hurriedly.

“Yes, I’m going,” said Nick.  “You can come to me afterwards if you like.  I shall be in my room.”

He squeezed her hand and relinquished it.  His yellow face was full of kindness, but she saw that he would not be persuaded to remain.  In silence she watched him go.

Then slowly, reluctantly, she turned to Max.  He was standing watching her with fixed, implacable eyes.

“Well?” he said, as she looked at him.  “Do you really want me to deny this preposterous story?”

She leaned against the wall, facing him.  She felt unutterably tired—­as if she were too weary to take any further interest in anything.  Neither his denial nor Nick’s could make the tale untrue.

“It doesn’t make much difference,” she said drearily.

“Thanks!” said Max shortly.

And then, as if suddenly making up his mind, he came to her and took her almost roughly by the shoulders.

“Olga,” he said, “how dare you believe this thing of me?”

She looked at him and her face quivered.  “You have never told me the truth,” she said.

“And so you are ready to believe any calumny,” said Max.  His hands pressed upon her; his red brows were drawn together.

At any other moment she would have deemed him formidable, but she was beyond fear just then.

“If you would only tell me what to believe—­” she said.

“And if I won’t?” He broke in upon her almost fiercely.  “If I demand your trust on this point—­as I have a right to demand it on every point—­what then?  Are you going to give me everything except that?”

She shook her head.  “No, Max.”

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

She answered him steadily enough.  “I mean that unless you can tell me the truth—­the truth, Max,” there was a piteous touch in her repetition of the words—­“I can never give you—­anything.”