"You know I did not think so," said he. And there was a pause between them. "Mr. Brodrick," she said presently, "do you really want a serial from me?" "Do I want it!" "As much as you think you do?" "I always," said he, "want things as much as I think I do." She smiled, wondering whether he thought he wanted Miss Collett as much as he obviously did. "What?" he said. "Are you going to let me have the next?" "I had thought of it. If you really do----" "Have you had any other offers?" "Yes; several. But----" "You must remember mine is only a new venture. And you may do better----" It was odd, but a curious uncertainty, a modesty had come upon him since she last met him. He had been then so absurd, so arrogant about his magazine. "I don't want to do better." "Of course, if it's only a question of terms----" It was incredible, Brodrick's depreciating himself to a mere question of terms. She flushed at this dreadful thought. "It isn't," she said. "Oh! I didn't mean _that_." "You never mean that. Which is why I must think of it for you. I can at least offer you higher terms." "But," she persisted, "I should hate to take them. I _want_ you to have the thing. That's to say I want _you_ to have it. You must not go paying me more for that." "I see," he said, "you want to make up." She looked at him. He was smiling complacently, in the fulness of his understanding of her. "My dear Miss Holland," he went on, "there must be no making up. Nothing of that sort between you and me." "There isn't," she said. "What is there to make up for? For your not getting me?" He smiled again as if that idea amused him. "Or," said she, "for my making you take Mr. Tanqueray?" "You didn't _make_ me," he said. "I took him to please you." "Well," she said; "and you'll take me now, to please me." She rose. "I must say good-bye to Miss Collett. How nice," she said, "Miss Collett is." "Isn't she?" said he. He saw her politely to the station. That evening he drank his coffee politely in the drawing-room with Miss Collett. "Do you know," he said, "Miss Holland thinks you're nice." To his wonder Miss Collett did not look as if the information gave her any joy. "Did she say so?" "Yes. Do you think _her_ nice?" "Of course I do." "What," said he, "do you really think of her?" He was in the habit of asking Miss Collett what she thought of people. It interested him to know what women thought, especially what they thought of other women. It was in the spirit of their old discussions that she now replied. "You can see she is a great genius. They say geniuses are bad to live with. But I do not think she would be." He did not answer. He was considering very profoundly the question she had raised. Which was precisely what Miss Collett meant that he should do. As the silver-chiming clock struck ten she rose and said good-night. She never allowed these sittings to be prolonged past ten. Neither did Brodrick.