"Why not?"
She meditated. "Because—it would spoil the chances of the book."
"I see. The chances of the book."
Their eyes met in conflict. It was as if they were measuring each other's moral value.
"I should make you a bigger offer, Miss Holland," he said; "only I believe you don't want that."
"No. Certainly I don't want that."
He paused. "Do you mind telling me if you've any other chance?"
"None. Not the ghost of one."
"So that, but for this all-important question of the date, I might have had you?"
"You might have had me."