The green eyes were instantly upon her, alert and critical, holding that gleam of satirical humour that she invariably found so exasperating.
"Well ?" said Olga at last.
"Well, fair lady ?" he responded, with bland serenity.
She frowned.

He was the only person in her world who ever made her take the trouble to explain herself, and he did it upon every possible occasion, with unvarying regularity.

She hated him for it very thoroughly, but she always had to yield.
"Why did you go to the Campions' ?" she asked, barely restraining her irritation.
"That, fair lady," he coolly responded, "is a question which with regret I must decline to answer." Olga flushed.

"How absurd!" she said quickly.

"Dad would tell me like a shot." "I am not Dad," said the doctor's assistant, with unruffled urbanity.
"Moreover, fair lady--" "I prefer to be called by my name if you have no objection, Dr.
Wyndham," cut in Olga, with rising wrath.
He smiled at something over her head.