MISS FARRINGDON. That will save you a lot in stamps.
GERALD (laughing). Aunt Tabitha, you're a witch. How did you know?
MISS FARRINGDON. Know what?
GERALD. That Pamela and I haven't been writing to each other.
MISS FARRINGDON (very innocently). Haven't you?
GERALD. No. You see—oh, I hate discussing Pamela with anyone, but you're different.
MISS FARRINGDON. I always like that sort of compliment best, Gerald. The unintended sort.
GERALD. I think, you know, Pamela felt that Bob's doing to prison might make a difference. I don't mean that she didn't like the disgrace for herself, but that she was afraid that I mightn't like it for her; and so she went away, and beyond a letter or two at the start there hasn't been a Pamela.
MISS FARRINGDON. But Gerald went on being successful?
GERALD. Oh, Aunt Tabitha, Aunt Tabitha, if ever I were going to be conceited—and I don't think I am really—you'd soon stop it, wouldn't you? I wonder if you do know me as well as you think. You think I'm all outside, don't you, and inside there's nothing?