“Why, to tell you the truth, sir,” he said, “I hadn’t been long married at that time, and my wife’s name, before she changed it for mine, was the same as the lady’s⁠—meaning the name of Glyde, sir. The lady mentioned it herself. ‘Is your name on your boxes, ma’am?’ says I. ‘Yes,’ says she, ‘my name is on my luggage⁠—it is Lady Glyde.’ ‘Come!’ I says to myself, ‘I’ve a bad head for gentlefolks’ names in general⁠—but this one comes like an old friend, at any rate.’ I can’t say nothing about the time, sir, it might be nigh on a year ago, or it mightn’t. But I can swear to the stout gentleman, and swear to the lady’s name.”