"Very few novels," said Pamela, "except old ones, but plenty of books. My father always says that newspapers are worthless reading, that they divide one's interest into snippets. But," she made haste to add, "he only really cares for classical literature. I suppose we have no society and no pictures. But the country is delightful."
Lady Jane yawned as if Pamela's answer did not interest her.
"What a pity!" she went on in tones of subtle disparagement. "What a great pity that your father cannot give his daughters the things which make life really worth living."
Pamela flushed.
"Our lives are very happy. But that our dear mother died young, I should say we are the happiest girls alive."
Again Lady Jane stifled a yawn.
"Anthony must have missed his music," she went on, "while he was with you. He is devoted to music."
"He never said——" began Pamela lamely.
"Of course he wouldn't," said Lady Jane. "By the way," she went on, "has Kitty told you how things are between her and Anthony?"
Pamela flushed, and then grew pale again. Fortunately she was not called upon for an answer.