"N-no."

"Could you give me what time I might require?"

"I think so."

"What I mean, Miss West, is this: suppose that your figure is what I
have an idea it is; could you give me a lot of time ahead?"

She remained silent so long that he had started to write, "probably
unreliable," under his notes; but, as his pencil began to move, her lips
unclosed with, a low, breathless sound that became a ghost of a voice:

"I will do what you require of me. I meant to answer."

"Do you mean that you are in a position to make a time contract with
me?--provided you prove to be what I need?"

She nodded uncertainly.

"I'm beginning the ceiling, lunettes, and panels for the Byzantine
Theatre," he added, sternly stroking his short mustache, "and under
those circumstances I suppose you know what a contract between us
means."

She nodded again, but in her eyes was bewilderment, and in her heart,
fear.

"Yes," she managed to say, "I think I understand."