“Hero,” said Ferdy frowning. “Look at it which way you like, it don’t make sense. For one thing, a hero ain’t a female, and for another it ain’t a name. At least,” he added cautiously, “it ain’t one I’ve ever heard of. Ten to one you’ve made one of your muffs, Sherry.”
“Oh no, I truly am called Hero!” the lady assured him. “It’s out of Shakespeare.”
“Oh, out of Shakespeare, is it?” said Ferdy. “That accounts for my not having heard it before!”
“You’re out of Shakespeare too,” said Hero, helping herself liberally from a dish of green peas.
“I am?” Ferdy exclaimed, much struck.
“Yes, in the Tempest, I think.”
“Well, if that don’t beat all!” Ferdy said, looking round at his friends. “She says I’m out of Shakespeare! Must tell my father that. Shouldn’t think he knows.”
“Yes, and now I come to think of it, Sherry’s out of Shakespeare too,” said Hero, smiling warmly upon her spouse.
“No, I’m not,” replied the Viscount, refusing to be dragged into these deep waters. “Named after my grandfather.”
“Well, perhaps he was out of Shakespeare, and that would account for it.”