But Lady Hawborough put out one hand to keep Kitty back, and, fixing her lover with a stony stare, exclaimed sepulchrally:
"Archibald!"
There was a profound silence for a moment; then Kitty, staring in her turn at her lover, echoed the objectionable word; for it was a name she detested.
"Archibald! His name's Harry!"
"His name is Archibald," said Lady Hawborough sternly. "I ought to know; for he is my nephew."
"Your nephew!" gasped Kitty.
The young man, having recovered from a fright which no shrapnel built by Krupp could have caused him, now came forward with hand extended.
"How are you, Aunt?—yes, it's my aunt, right enough. Didn't I tell you? Must have forgotten to mention it: ought to be ashamed of myself, for Aunt Philippa's been awfully good to me. Aunt, this young lady is——"
"I know quite well enough who she is, Archibald," broke in Lady Hawborough severely. "What I want to know is—What does this mean?"
"Oh, I see!" he stammered. "Oh, well, it means—of course, you saw when you came in? It means that Kitty here—Miss Thorold, allow me to introduce you to my aunt. Mr. Thorold, my aunt, Lady Hawborough. Aunt Philippa, Mr. Thorold: he is the father of this young lady, Kitty here, who has done me the very great honour of promising to marry me. Sounds impossible; but it's true!"