“And are you really related to the Lingards of Torrington?” she inquired condescendingly.
“Yes, Mr. Lingard is my uncle.”
“And Miss Lingard who is to marry Sir Beaufort Finsbury is your cousin?”
I nodded assent.
“Torrington Park is quite a large place, is it not?”
“Yes,” I admitted, “it is rather large.”
“How many servants do they keep?”
“I really do not know.”
“Doesn’t it seem rather a pity that you cannot live with your own relations?”
This was a nasty one for me, and for the moment I could not think of any effective reply.