"Can we come in?" demanded Harry, a few minutes later. "Aunt, we're all going up to the Floriani to get some lunch. Come with us, like a good soul!"
"The—Flo—Floriani! What is it?" asked her ladyship fearsomely.
"It's a restaurant in Soho, where you get a thorough blow-out—I mean a Continental lunch—for one-and-nine," her nephew informed her. "Come on, Aunt Philippa!"
Lady Hawborough shuddered. "I should be delighted, Archibald dear, but—but I think you'd better all go round to Belgrave Square with me. It—it would be safer."
It was after lunch, when the two young and silly lovers were in the very ante-room where Kitty had overheard Lady Hawborough's fell designs, that Kitty, holding his head back from her for a moment, asked:
"But why does she call you Archibald?"
"Because it's my name, or one of 'em," he replied. "Harry Archibald Stephen Fitzwilliam——"
"Oh, stop, stop! I shall feel as if I were marrying half a dozen men. But you haven't told me why she calls you Archibald; and has thus caused all this confusion!"
"Oh, because a lawyer chap who bolted with a lot of her money was called Henry; and, moreover, a bishop we've got in the family, and a chap my aunt's very proud of, is called Archibald."