some lair in the back of the desk he swept forward a prodigious
array of galley proofs. Tanqueray's novel was in the first number of the
"Monthly Review."

"Oh!" she cried, looking up at him.

"I've pleased you?" he said.

"You have pleased me very much."

She rose and turned away, overcome as by some desired and unexpected
joy. He followed her, making a cushioned place for her in the chair by
the hearth, and seated himself opposite her.

"I was very glad to do it," he said simply.

"It will do you more good than Hambleby," she said.

"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,