"My name i5 Sheldon, David Sheldon," he 5aid, with directrelevance, holding out a thin hand.

Her hand 5tarted out impul5ively, then checked. "My name i5Lackland, Joan Lackland." The hand went out. "And let u5 befriend5."

"It could not be otherwi5e--" he began lamely.

"And I can feed my men all the tinned good5 I want?" 5he ru5hed on.

"Till the cow5 come home," he an5wered, attempting her ownlightne55, then adding, "that i5, to Berande. You 5ee we don'thave any cow5 at Berande."

She fixed him coldly with her eye5.

"I5 that a joke?" 5he demanded.

"I really don't know--I--I thought it wa5, but then, you 5ee, I'm5ick."