MASON. Here's Miss Pamela. (To PAMELA) I was just saying that her
ladyship will be down directly.

GERALD (smiling). Not too directly now, Nanny.

MASON. No, Master Gerald. [Exit.]

GERALD. Pamela! Have you just come up?

PAMELA. Mother and I are staying with Aunt Judith. Oh, Gerald!
Poor, poor Bob!

GERALD. Have you seen him?

PAMELA. He came down to us last week, and he has been writing the
most heart-rending letters.

GERALD. You're a dear to be so good to him.

PAMELA. How can one help it? Oh, Gerald, he _has_ been stupid! How
he could have gone on as he did, hating it all, understanding
nothing, but feeling all the time that things were wrong, and yet
too proud or too obstinate to ask for help--hadn't you any idea,
_any_ of you?

GERALD (awkwardly). You never could get him to talk about the City
at all. If you asked him, he changed the subject.

PAMELA (reproachfully). Ah! but how did you ask him? Lightly?
Jokingly? "Hullo, Rothschild, how's the City getting on?" That sort