“The gold leaf is hand-rubbed,” I said, “and mixed with honey from Israelite bees, then mixed with a gum Arabic solution.”

“That doesn’t sound friendly to fountain pens,” said Doctor Banks.

“Of course not. Only a quill pen may be used.”

“Do our recipients know that you made the ink itself?”

“It’s enough that we know.”

“And what are we sending out these letters for, again?”

“To solicit our patrons to donate to the arts.”

“You’re sending out letters to beg for money?”

“We do not beg, we solicit.”

“Ahem. You’re sending out letters to solicit money, and they’re written in gold?”

“It assures the patrons that their donations are properly spent on art.”

“The art of begging?”

“You do so like to use that word.”

“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into stuffing envelopes with you. This sort of foolishness sounds more like Roux’s cup of tea. Why isn’t he here?”

“He is, in his way. He donated the quills that we are using for pens.”

“Ah. Phoenix feathers, I should have guessed. It adds to the extravagance.”

“Art, hon. It adds to the art.”

“Still, why not just send out e-mails? It would be cheaper by orders of magnitude.”

“Unthinkable! To busk for money like some Nigerian confidence man, with the message sandwiched between offers of discount drugs and penis enlargement? Where is the art in that? You cannot just send out blanket messages – there is a procedure to this.”

“A procedure for begging?”

“I really should have you licking envelopes. It would be a far better use of your wagging tongue.”