The contents of her basket scattered around her in spite of her desperate efforts to save them, and this disaster was to Olga the climax of all.

She went into a brief darkness in bitterness of spirit.
Not wholly did she lose consciousness, however, for she knew whose arms lifted her, and even very feebly tried to push them away.

In the end she found herself sitting on an old wooden bench in the shade of the garden-wall, with her head against Max's shoulder, and his hand, very vital and full of purpose, grasping her wrist.
"Oh, Max," she said, with a painful gasp, "my raspberries!" "Damn the raspberries!" growled Max.

His hand travelled up to her head and removed the sun-bonnet while he was speaking.

"Don't move till you feel better!" he said.