"Well, Lew, you may call me H lne, like your father. It'll make me feel even younger than I am."
"H lne is a pretty name," said Lewis.
"None of that, young man," said Leighton. "You'll call H lne my Lady."
"That's a pretty name, too," said Lewis.
"Yes," said the lady, rising and holding out her hand, "call me that—at the door."
"Dad," said Lewis as they walked back to the flat, "does she live all alone in that big house?"
Leighton came out of a reverie.
"That lady, Lew, is Lady H lne Derl. She is the wife of Lord Derl. You won't see much of Lord Derl, because he spends most of his time in a sort of home for incurables. His hobby is faunal research. In other words, he's a drunkard. Bah! We won't talk any more about that."
CHAPTER XVIII
A few months later, when Lewis had very much modified his ideas of London, he was walking with his father in the park at the hour which the general English fitness of things assigns to the initiated. A very little breaking in and a great deal of tailoring had gone a long way with Lewis. Men looked at father and son as though they thought they ought to recognize them even if they didn't. Women turned kindly eyes upon them.