“Lovat? He wants to go.”
“Lovat! What a good name to call him by!” He turned to Somers, looking at him closely. “May I call you Lovat?”
“Better that than the poet,” said Somers, lifting his nose slightly with aversion.
The other man laughed, but softly and happily.
“His muse he’s not in love with,” he murmured to himself.
“No, he prefers his own name,” said Somers.
“But supposing now,” said Kangaroo, as if alert and interested, “your name was Cooley: Benjamin Cooley—Ben, for short. You’d prefer even Kangaroo to that.”
“In Australia the kangaroo is the king of beasts,” said Somers.
“The kangaroo is the king of beasts,
Inviting the other ones out to feasts,”
sang the big man, continuing: “Won’t you both come to dinner with the king of beasts? Won’t you come too, Mrs Somers?”