She stopped all the morning and looked at the pictures, but she never referred to their conversation of the previous night.
There was a tacit understanding between them that it should remain in abeyance until the time given for the reply of Giles was ended.
Still, Ware could not forget that burning kiss, and was awkward in consequence.
Not so Olga.
She was quite cool and self-possessed, and although alone with him for close on two hours, did not show the least confusion.
Giles, much disgusted, called her in his own mind "unmaidenly."
But she was not that, for she behaved very discreetly.
She was simply a woman deeply in love who was bent on gaining her ends.
Considering the depth of her passion, she restrained herself very creditably when with the man she loved.
Giles now saw how it was that she had defied her family and had taken her own way in life.
"I won't stop to luncheon," she said, when he asked her; "but I and my mother will come over at three o'clock."
It was now close on two.
"I am sure we shall have a pleasant afternoon."
Giles tried to smile, and succeeded very well, considering what his feelings were at the moment.
If he could only have behaved brutally, he would have refused the honor of the proposed visit, but it is difficult to be rude to a charming woman bent upon having her own way.
Ware kicked as a man will, but ended in accepting the inevitable.
Olga returned to the inn, and found the Princess seated on the sofa fanning herself violently.
Mrs. Morris was in the room, fluttering nervously as she laid the cloth for luncheon.
Olga looked at her mother.
"Did you take your walk?" she asked.
The Princess nodded.
"I am very warm," she said.
"What do you think now?" asked her daughter impatiently.
"I think that you are a very clever woman, Olga," replied the Princess; "but I am too hungry to talk just now.
When I have eaten and am rested we can speak."
"But just one word.
Am I right?"
"Perfectly right."
This conversation was conducted in French, and Mrs. Morris could make nothing of it.
Even if she had known the sense she would not have understood what it meant.
However, Olga and her mother reverted to English for the benefit of the landlady, and chatted about their proposed visit to Ware's mansion.
After that came luncheon.
Shortly after three mother and daughter were with Giles.
He received them with composure, although he felt quite otherwise than composed.
The Princess pronounced him a charming young man.
"And what a delightful place you have here!" she said, looking at the quaint Tudor house, with its grey walls and mullion windows. "It is like a fairy palace.
The Castle"—she meant her husband's residence in Styria—"is cruel-looking and wild."
"It was built in the Middle Ages," said Olga. "I don't think any one was particularly amiable then."
"I would rather have stayed in Jamaica," sighed the Princess. "Why did I ever leave it?"
Olga, who always appeared annoyed when her mother reverted to her early life, touched the elder woman's elbow.
The Princess sighed again, and held her peace.
She had a fine temper of her own, but always felt that it was an effort to use it.
She therefore usually gave in to Olga.
"It saved trouble," she explained.
But her good temper did not last all the afternoon, and ended in disarranging Olga's plans.
After a hearty afternoon tea on the lawn the Princess said that she did not feel well, and wished to go home.
Olga demurred, but Giles, seeing the chance of escape, agreed that the Princess really was unwell, and proposed to send them back to the inn in his carriage.
Princess Karacsay jumped at the offer.
"It will save me walking," she declared fretfully, "and I have done so much this morning."
"Where did you go?" asked Giles, wondering that so indolent a woman should exert herself on such a hot day.