“I don’t want Max,” she whispered.  “Please send him away!”

“I’ll go like a bird,” Max said, “if you will let me take your pulse first.  It isn’t much to ask, is it?”

He set down a tray he was carrying, and came and stood beside Nick.  Outlined against the dim light shed by a shaded night-lamp, he looked gigantically square and strong.

“I won’t hurt you, Olga,” he said.  “Won’t you trust me?”

Again his voice was softened to a great gentleness; yet it compelled.  In another second Nick had withdrawn himself, and Max stood alone beside her bed.  He stooped low over her, put back the hair from her forehead, looked intently into her eyes.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered back.

“You are sure?  It doesn’t hurt you to move your eyes?”

“No,” she said again.

He passed his hand again over her forehead, felt her face, her temples, finally turned his attention to her pulse.  As he took out his watch, she remembered again the two things that had outlasted all other impressions before she had sunk into her long sleep.  And with this memory came another.  She raised her eyes to his grave face.

“Max!”

“In a moment!” said Max.

But it was many moments before he laid her hand down.

“You will be all right when you have eaten something,” he said then, “and had another sleep.  Is there something you want to say to me?”

His tone was kind, but his manner repressive.  She wished the light had not been so dim upon his face.

“Max,” she said, with an effort, “why—­why did you close the door?”

She fancied he smiled, grimly humorous, at the question.  She was sure his eyes gleamed mockery.  He was silent for a space, and then:  “Ask me some other time!” he said.

She breathed a sigh of disappointment.  She knew she would never have the courage.

He waited a few seconds more, then as she remained silent he laid his hand again on hers and pressed it lightly.

“Good-night!” he said.

She scarcely responded, nor did he wait for her to respond.  In another moment he had turned from her, and was talking in a low voice to Nick.

A minute later he went softly out, and she saw no more of him that night.

Nick remained for some little time longer, waiting on her with the tenderness of a woman.  It was wonderful to note how little his infirmity hampered him.  There were very few things that Nick could not accomplish with one hand as quickly as the rest of the world with two.

But Olga, having recovered the full possession of her faculties, would not permit him to sacrifice any more of his night’s rest to her.

“I shall be perfectly all right,” she declared.  “If I’m not, you are only in the next room, and I can rap on the wall.”

“Yes, but will you?” said Nick.

“Of course I will.”