"No, you blamed idiot; that's only the beginning. She was walking, do you understand, with Mrs. Arbuthnot. So I thought, 'None of that now, woman!' and I just said so flat. At least I didn't say so, but they understood what I meant, and so we sat down on two little green chairs, and I paid twopence for them. Dirt cheap!"
"You and Mrs. Arbuthnot and she. I quite follow."
"Of course; oh! I'm not sure what happened to Mrs. Arbuthnot. She didn't go to heaven; at least I didn't see her there, so I suppose—oh, well, I suppose she stopped where she was. I dare say she's there now. So I said, 'Evie.'"
"And she said 'Harry,'" remarked Geoffrey.
Long brown fingers stole round his neck.
"Now, tell me the truth, like George Washington," said Harry, "were you listening?"
"No; I guessed. Take your hand away."
"Devilish smart of you, then! She did say 'Harry,' and I won't deny it. My name, I tell you, you malingering skunk; she meant me! She called me Harry. O Lord!"
"Well, it's altogether the most remarkable thing I ever heard," said Geoffrey. "And as the bell for lunch sounded ten minutes ago, I propose that you should tell me the rest afterward."
It was Geoffrey's first attempt at stairs since he had gone to bed, and he threw an arm round Harry's neck, and leaned his weight on him.