"What is his name?"
"Hero."
"How very odd. Bruno, or Nero, or Ponto, or even Fido, would be so much more suitable."
"Hero suits him, and suits me."
Mr. Roscoe looked curiously into the face beside him, and laughed.
"I presume you are a very romantic young miss, and have been dreaming about some rustic Leander in round jacket."
"My dog was not called after the priestess at Sestos. It means hero the common noun, not Hero the proper name. Holding torches to guide people across the Hellespont was not heroism."
If she had addressed him in Aramaic he would not have been more surprised; and for a moment he stared.
"I am afraid your Hero will not prove a thoroughly welcome addition to my cousin's household. He has no fondness whatever for dogs, or indeed for pets of any kind, and Mrs. Palma, who has a chronic terror of hydrophobia, will not permit a dog to come near her."
He saw something like a smile flicker across the girl's mouth, but she did not look up, and merely asked: