“I’ve often wondered what your first name is, but I haven’t the slightest idea. Tell me.”
“No, guess. What name do you think suits me?”
Patty considered.
“Well,” she said, at last, “I think it must be either Ethelfrida or Gwendolyn Gladys.”
Lady Hamilton laughed merrily. “Prepare yourself for a sudden shock,” she said. “I was named for my grandmother, Catharine.”
“Catharine! What an absurd name for you! You’re not even a Kate. But you are Lady Kitty, and I’ll call you that, if I may.”
“Indeed you may. Father used to call me Kitty, when I was a child, but as I grew older, I preferred my full name.”
“Lady Kitty is just right for you, and when you’re in the mood you’re a saucy puss. Now, listen, the reason for my invasion of your premises this morning is that I want you to go with me this afternoon to a tea on the Terrace of Parliament House.”
Patty’s tones were very persuasive, and she looked so daintily attractive in her fresh morning gown that few could have refused any request she might make.
Lady Hamilton in a soft, frilly white négligée, was sipping her coffee and looking over her letters when Patty had interrupted the process. She looked at her eager young guest with a slow, provoking smile, and said only: