It is I, Faustus. I have returned, only to find that I seem to have been nurturing a viper in my bosom. I’ll take the high road for the moment and deal with the pretender later, as I have a question to ask:
If you leave the country and stay with the music director of your show and his partner and they foil all your attempts to be a helpful guest by tricking you out of doing the dishes or arranging the cushions back on the sofa or any of the other things that you as a good guest would sooner lose an arm than neglect to do, and then you sleep with them, and then the next morning after a delightful breakfast, when you go to wash the dishes they don’t lift a finger to stop you, does that mean they thought you were bad in bed?
Hypothetically speaking, I mean?