Richard came back to the former topic.
“Really, Mrs. Norris——”
“Don’t Mrs. Norris me.”
“Really, Phœbe, I don’t know any De Lancey. What sort of man is he?”
“Well, to begin with he is the happiest liar, outside of your good self, that I’ve yet met. He’s Irish, and he’s chuck full of limericks and connund——”
“Jove!” cried Richard. “It’s Jawn!”
“Jawn it is; Jawn De Lancey.”
“It’s Jawn Galloway,” he corrected. “It would be just like him to imitate me and take another name——”
“Then Mr. Richard is not your name?” she broke in triumphantly.
“No,” he smiled wryly. “But you mustn’t tell Mrs. Wells. Jerry knows. And so does Walter. You may as well know too. In fact, I thought Jerry had told you. But think of Jawn Galloway taking on a—did you say De Lancey? Jack De Lancey! That is comic.”