“Why not Herbert? ... We’ve reproduced you.”
She flushed faintly.
“That was your wish,” she said. “But it seems to me confusing when the children are christened after the parents.”
“Well, it was merely a suggestion,” he returned easily.
“I think I should like him called David, after my father,” she added presently. “He was the best man I have ever known.”
Arnott made no response. The expression of her reason for her selection seemed to him in the circumstances uncalled for.
“You don’t dislike the name, I hope?” she asked.
“No. I don’t say I’d choose it. It’s rather Welsh, isn’t it?”
“It’s British,” she replied, “anyway.”
“Look here!” he said, dismissing the subject of the baby’s name, and fumbling in his pocket for the present which he had brought out with him, “I’ve something here for a good girl.”