'Ah, that's the influence of my sub-editor,' he said, smiling in return. 'Well, good-bye.' 'You're forgetting your overcoat,' she said; and having smoothed out that crumpled collar, she accompanied him down the wide soft-carpeted staircase into the hall, with its rich bronzes and glistening statues. 'How are your people in America?' he bethought himself to ask on the way down. 'They are very well, thank you,' she said. 'I send my brother Solomon the _Flag of Judah_. He is also, I am afraid, one of the unregenerate. You see, I am doing my best to enlarge your congregation.' He could not tell whether it was sarcasm or earnest. 'Well, good-bye,' he said, holding out his hand. 'Thank you for your promise.' 'Oh, that's not worth thanking me for,' she said, touching his long white fingers for an instant. 'Look at the glory of seeing myself in print. I hope you're not annoyed with me for refusing to contribute fiction?' she ended, growing suddenly remorseful at the moment of parting. 'Of course not. How could I be?' 'Couldn't your sister Adelaide do you a story?' 'Addie?' he repeated, laughing. 'Fancy Addie writing stories! Addie has no literary ability.' 'That's always the way with brothers. Solomon says----' She paused suddenly. 'I don't remember for the moment that Solomon has any proverb on the subject,' he said, still amused at the idea of Addie as an authoress. 'I was thinking of something else. Good-bye. Remember me to your sister, please.' 'Certainly,' he said; then he exclaimed: 'Oh, what a blockhead I am! I forgot to remember her to you. She says she would be so pleased if you would come and have tea and a chat with her some day. I should like you and Addie to know each other.' 'Thanks, I will. I will write to her some day. Good-bye once more.' He shook hands with her and fumbled at the door. 'Allow me,' she said, and opened it upon the grey dulness of the dripping street. 'When may I hope for the honour of another visit from a real live editor?' 'I don't know,' he said, smiling; 'I'm awfully busy. I have to read a paper on Ibn Ezra at Jews' College to-day fortnight.' 'Outsiders admitted?' she asked. 'The lectures _are_ for outsiders,' he said, 'to spread the knowledge of our literature--only they won't come. Have you never been to one?' She shook her head. 'There!' he said. 'You complain of our want of culture, and you don't even know what's going on.' She tried to take the reproof with a smile, but the corners of her mouth quivered. He raised his hat and went down the steps.