"Some of them are," answered Macfarren, "but most of them are merchants and traders." Just then the waiter brought a tiny silver-plated tureen of soup and set it down before them. At that moment Macfarren caught sight of Mrs. Van Tromp at the next table but one, who smiled coquettishly at him and held up a glass of red wine in expressive pantomime. But, while he was watching her, he saw a sudden change come over her face--a look of paralyzed astonishment: she sat, her hand holding the wineglass suspended in the air, a silhouette, motionless against the background, and rigid with amazement. Macfarren turned to his companion, and saw at once. Marian had raised the tureen to her dainty mouth, and was drinking the turtle-soup without the formality of a soup-plate or a tablespoon. Macfarren was of a nature too loyal to see anything to excite mirth in this unexpected breach of custom in the woman he had loved for fifteen years: he only felt a blind and furious anger against those who might make her a subject of ridicule. Marian, however, had no suspicion of what was passing in his mind, but, after draining the tureen, set it down with a sigh of satisfaction, saying, "By my faith, that was a royal dish of broth." Mrs. Van Tromp's horrified amazement was bad enough, but when Macfarren turned and saw James, his waiter for ten years, heretofore a model of gravity and discreetness, with his mouth stretched from ear to ear convulsed with silent laughter, he could scarcely refrain from braining him with the water-decanter before him. In an instant James saw the dangerous look in Macfarren's eye, and, as if by magic, his countenance assumed its look of wonted stolidity, but not until Macfarren had hissed at him, in an aside, "Confound your infernal insolence, if you smile again I'll break every bone in your rascally body." James was an arrant coward, and not a tremor appeared upon the placid surface of his countenance during the rest of the dinner--not even when he handed Macfarren a card from Mrs. Van Tromp, on which was scrawled, "_Quite unconventional, but so high-bred._" Then came the ordering of the dinner. Macfarren, without consulting his _vis-à-vis_, did it all. He did not bother with the _entrées_, but required plain roast beef, potatoes, and plum-pudding. Meanwhile Marian continued to gaze around with delight. Macfarren felt at every moment the subtile charm of her exquisite womanhood. Understanding as he did the reason of her peculiar ignorance of every-day matters, nothing she did shocked him. Marian talked gayly and unreservedly, and promised him a wild boar's head for his Christmas dinner if he came to King's Lyndon. "And, though they may want to place thee with the clerks and the chaplain," she said, smiling, "I will have thee above the salt with me, for I see thou hast the heart and soul as well as the manners of a gentleman."