He did not tell her that she had, that he had spent the best part of his morning correcting her corrections. She was an inimitable housekeeper, and a really admirable secretary. But her weakness was that she desired to be considered admirable and inimitable in everything she undertook. It would distress her to know that this time she had not succeeded, and he did not like distressing people who were dependent on him. It used to be so easy, so mysteriously easy, to distress Miss Collett; but she had got over that; she was used to him now; she had settled down into the silent and serene performance of her duties. And she had brought to her secretarial work a silence and serenity that were invaluable to a man who detested argument and agitation. So, instead of insisting on her failure, he tried to diminish her disturbing sense of it; and when she inquired if she had done her work very badly, he smiled and said, No, she had done it much too well. "Too well?" She flushed as she echoed him. "Yes. You've corrected all Mr. Tanqueray's punctuation and nearly all his grammar." "But it's all wrong. Look there--and there." "How do you know it's all wrong?" "But--it's so simple. There are rules." "Yes. But Mr. Tanqueray's a great author, and great authors are born to break half the rules there are. What you and I have got to know is when they _may_ break them, and when they mayn't." A liquid film swam over Gertrude's eyes, deepening their shallows. It was the first signal of distress. "It's all right," he said. "I wanted you to do it. I wanted to see what you could do." He considered her quietly. "It struck me you might perhaps prefer it to your other duties." "What made you think that?" "I didn't think. I only wondered. Well----" The next half-hour was occupied with the morning's correspondence, till Brodrick announced that they had no time for more. "It's only just past four," she said. "I know; but----Is there anything for tea?" He spoke vaguely like a man in a dream. "What an opinion you have of my housekeeping," she said. "Your housekeeping, Miss Collett, is perfection." She flushed with pleasure, so that he kept it up. "Everything," he said, "runs on greased wheels. I don't know how you do it." "Oh, it's easy enough to do." "And it doesn't matter if a lady comes to tea?" He took up a pencil and began to sharpen it. "Is there," said Miss Collett, "a lady coming to tea?" "Yes. And we'll have it in the garden. Tea, I mean." "And who," said she, "is the lady?" "Miss Jane Holland." Brodrick did not look up. He was absorbed in his pencil. "Another author?" "Another author," said Brodrick to his pencil.