'If you had come in sooner,' said Cadurcis, 'we should not have had this row.'
'What is a row, little boy?' said Venetia.
'Do not call me little boy,' he said, but not in an unkind tone; 'call me by my name.'
'What is your name?'
'Lord Cadurcis; but you may call me by my Christian name, because I like you.'
'What is your Christian name?'
'Plantagenet.'
'Plantagenet! What a long name!' said Venetia. 'Tell me then,
Plantagenet, what is a row?'
'What often takes place between me and my mother, but which I am sorry now has happened here, for I like this place, and should like to come often. A row is a quarrel.'
'A quarrel! What! do you quarrel with your mamma?'