“In a great measure,” said Max.

Sir Kersley’s face was grave.  “I am afraid the strain is telling upon her,” he said.

“You think she looks ill?” Max shot the question with none of his customary composure.

“No, not actually ill,” Sir Kersley said, without looking at him.  “But she is too thin in my opinion, and she looks to me very highly strung.”

“She always was,” said Max.

“Yes; well, she mustn’t have a nervous break-down if we can prevent it,” said Sir Kersley gently.

“No,” Max agreed curtly.  “She has got to keep up for Noel’s sake.”

That seemed to be his main idea just then—­his brother’s welfare.  Very resolutely he kept his mind fixed, with all the strength of which it was capable, upon that one object, and he was impatient of every distraction outside his profession.

Late that night he went round for a last look at Noel, and was told by a smiling nurse that he had “gone to sleep as chirpy as a cricket.”  He went in to see him, and found him slumbering like an infant.  The pulse under Max’s fingers was absolutely normal, and an odd smile that had in it an element of respect touched Max’s grim lips.  Certainly the boy had grit.

The first sound he heard when he arrived at the home on the following day was Noel’s heartiest laugh.  He was enjoying a joke with one of the nurses who was Irish herself and extremely gay of heart.  But the moment Max entered, he sobered and asked for Olga.

Olga was in the building with Nick, but they had thought it advisable to keep visitors away from him on the morning of the operation.  Noel, however, was absolutely immovable on the point, refusing flatly to proceed until he had seen her.  So for five short minutes Olga was admitted and left alone with him.

More than once during those minutes his cheery laugh made itself heard again.  He had a hundred and one things to say, not one of which could Olga ever remember afterwards save the last, when, holding her close to him, he whispered, “And if I don’t come out of it, sweetheart, you’re to marry another fellow; see?  No damn’ sentimental rot on my account, mind!  I never was good enough for you, God knows!  There!  Run along!  Good-bye!”

His kiss was the briefest he had ever given her, but there was something in the manner of its bestowal that pierced her to the heart.  Her own farewell was inarticulate.  She was only just able to restrain her tears.

But she mastered her weakness almost immediately, for Max was waiting in the passage outside.  He was talking to a nurse, and she would have slipped past him without recognition; but he broke off abruptly and joined her, walking back with her to the room where Nick was waiting.

“Look here!” he said, “I don’t think you need be so anxious, I give you my word I believe the operation will be a success.”

It was so contrary to his custom to express an opinion in this way that Olga raised her eyes almost involuntarily to gaze at him.