“Are you?” Pandora enquired. “I did not know.”
“You must be very out-of-touch,” the Earl replied with a sneer. Then he said: “No, of course! I know! Stratton – you are something to do with that sanctimonious, psalm-singing Bishop who called on me last time I was here.”
“He is – my uncle.”
“Then all I can say is that I am sorry for you!”
“I am rather sorry for myself.”
He smiled for the first time and it made his face look quite different.
“I suppose you want to tell me about it,” he said, “but if you are asking me to subscribe to the poor, the diseased, the crippled, or the out of work in Lindchester, you can save your breath!”
“I am not asking for help for any of them,” Pandora replied, “although doubtless they would appreciate it – but for – myself.”
She seated herself as she spo
