'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.