“I don’t understand you,” said Olga, in a tone that implied that she had no desire to do so.

“No?” said Max indifferently.  “Well, I think unselfishness should never be carried to extremes.  Some women have such a passion for self-sacrifice that they will stick at nothing to satisfy it.  The result is that unwilling victims get offered up, and you will admit that that is scarcely fair.”

Olga handed him his coffee.  “Will you cut the ham, please?” she said.

“Do you catch my meaning yet?” asked Max, not to be thwarted.

She shook her head.  “But really it doesn’t matter, and it’s getting late.”

“Sorry to keep you,” he replied imperturbably, “but when I take the trouble to expound my views, I like to guard against any misunderstanding.  Just tell me this, and I shall be satisfied.  If you were at a ball, and you had a partner you liked and who liked you, and you came upon your friend crying because she wanted that particular partner—­would you give him up to her?”

“Of course I should,” said Olga.  “I don’t call that a very serious self-sacrifice.”

“No?” said Max.  He gave her a very peculiar look, and pursed his lips for an instant as if about to whistle.  “And if the unfortunate partner objected?”

Olga began vigorously to cut some bread.  “He would have to put up with it,” she said.

Max rose without comment and went to the ham.  There followed a somewhat marked silence as he commenced to carve it.  Then:  “Pardon my persistence, fair lady,” he said.  “But just one more question—­if you’ve no objection.  Suppose you were my partner and Hunt-Goring the forlorn friend, do you think I should be justified in passing you on to him?  It would be a considerable self-sacrifice on my part.”

“Oh, really!” exclaimed Olga, in hot exasperation.  “What absurd question will you ask next?”

He looked across at her with a complacent smile.  “You see, I’m only a man,” he said coolly.  “But that illustrates my point.  It’s not always possible to pass on all one’s possessions, is it?  It may answer in theory but not in practice.  I think you catch my meaning now?”

“Hadn’t you better have your breakfast?” said Olga, with a glance at the clock.

Max’s eyes followed hers.  “Where’s Nick?  Has he overslept himself?”

“He has not,” said Nick, entering at the moment.  “It is not a habit of his.  Well, Olga, my child, how goes the world this morning?”

She turned with relief to greet him.  His genial personality was wonderfully reassuring.  He kissed her lightly, and took up his correspondence.

“Let me open them!” she said.

He stood by and watched her while she did it.  She was very deft in all her ways, but to-day for some reason her hands were not quite so steady as usual.

Nick threw a sudden glance across at Max while he waited.  “Miss Campion all right this morning?” he asked.