"So you see, at present," she resumed, "marriage is impossible. It will always be impossible to me unless I can bring--everything, not merely companionship, not merely liking; out the ever so much more which there is. I cannot contemplate it at all under any other conditions"--and now she looked at her companion--"and I believe it is the same with you." "Yes," Warrisden replied, "I ask for everything." He had his convictions, and since there was complete confidence between these two, he spoke them now. "It is unsafe, of course, to generalise on the subject of women. But I do think this: If a man asks little from a woman, she will give him even less than he asks, and she will give it grudgingly, sparingly; counting what she gives. And that little, to my mind, is worth rather less than nothing. Better have no ties than weak ones. If, on the other hand, a man asks a great deal, and continually asks it, why, the woman may get bored, and he may get nothing. In which case he is no worse off than he was before. But if, on the other hand, the woman does give in return----" "Well?" asked Pamela. "Well, then, she gives ever so much more than he asks, and gives it willingly with open hands." Pamela thought the theory over. "Yes, I think that is generally true," she said. "But, after all, I am giving you very little." Warrisden laughed. "That's true," he replied. "But then you are not bored, and I have not done asking." Pamela laughed too, and their talk thus ended in a lighter note. They walked towards the house, and as they did so a woman came out on to the lawn. "This is Millie Stretton," said Pamela. "She is staying here?" cried Warrisden. "Yes," replied Pamela, "Before she comes I want to ask you to do something for me. Oh, it is quite a small thing. But I should like you very much to do it. Where do you go to from here?" "To London," said Warrisden, "I have business there." The business which called him to town had, indeed, only occurred to him during the last half-hour. It had arisen from their conversation. It seemed to Warrisden immediate and imperative. "Will you be in London to-morrow?" asked Pamela. "Yes." "Then I want you to write to me. Just a little letter--nothing much, a line or two. And I want you to post it, not by the country post, but afterwards, so that it will reach me in the evening. Don't write here, for I am going home. And please don't forget." Millie Stretton joined them a moment afterwards, and Warrisden was introduced to her. "I have had an offer for the house in Berkeley Square," she said to Pamela. "I think I will take it. I shall be glad to be rid of it."