"And you've just come--from her death-bed ?" He arose and stretched himself.

"Even so, fair lady." Olga stared at him incredulously.

"You actually--don't care ?" she asked slowly.
"Not much good caring," said Max.
"What did she die of ?" questioned Olga.
He hesitated for a second.

Then, "cancer," he said briefly.
"Did she suffer much ?" She asked the question nervously as if she feared the answer.
"It doesn't matter, does it ?" said Max, thrusting his hands into his pockets.
"I don't see why you shouldn't tell me that." Olga spoke with a flash of indignation.

"It does matter in my opinion." "Nothing that's past matters," said Max.
"I don't agree with you!" Hotly she made answer, inexplicably hurt by his callous tone.