“I suppose we do—yes.”
“So I forgot his surname just for the minute. Does he call you Prudence?”
“What has that got to do with it?”
“Roughly speaking, it ranges from three to seven thousand a year. More for archbishops, according to scale, of course.”
“Well, that sounds plenty,” said Prudence.
(I have ascertained from Crockford’s Directory that the value of the vicar’s living is three hundred and twenty five pounds per annum.)
“Don’t be calculating, Miss Prudence!”
“And heartless?” The little wrinkle was on her brow again.
“That remark of Miss Jenkins’ seems to rankle!”
“I wasn’t thinking—altogether—of Clara.”