"Oh, dear!" Olivia exclaimed; and she uttered a laugh of lamentation. "That patting she gave the poor old goose on the shoulder! And he so blandly pleased by it—with Mamma looking straight at him and almost close enough to him to push a chimney over on him!" She laughed brokenly again, put her hand to her head, then let it fall helplessly in her lap, and became serious. "Mr. Ogle, I had the impression you meant to stay in Algiers. Would you mind my asking you if"
"Ask what you wish to."
"Well, was it your idea—this motor trip you've taken that's brought her here?"
"No; it was hers."
"Then of course it's on Papa's account that she came."
"Yes," he said in a low voice, "I think so."
And upon this she looked at him compassionately. "I'm afraid that must have been a painful conclusion for you to come to."
"Well, a little," he said; and Olivia seemed to appreciate his honesty.
"We do get over these things—in time," she informed him gently. "I'm an example to you, though on the steamer and in Algiers I was a bad one.
