I saw Deeming look at him steadily, rather as a doctor looks at a new patient, more than once as we drank our soup, and I knew that with his invariable acuteness he was taking stock of his new acquaintance. Vernon, on the other hand, showed at first no special interest in Deeming, did not regard him earnestly, but was gracefully agreeable to him as he was to everyone. He was far more what is generally called a man of the world than Deeming, whose devotion to, and great success in, his profession had kept him bound to the wheel of work in London, and had prevented him from having the opportunity of knowing the nations and mixing perpetually with society which Vernon had enjoyed. At first we talked quietly, almost languidly, of Rome, of its changes and its tourists, of the influence of America upon its society, of its climate, of the differences between life in England and life abroad, and so forth. It was not till the middle of dinner that anything occurred to wake us up into great animation. Then a stout, dark, and very vivacious little lady, with a commanding air, came into the restaurant followed by two men, and sat down at a table near us. She and her companions were obviously Italians, and almost directly she screwed up her eyes at Vernon and nodded to him. He returned her salute with _empressement_. “Would you mind telling me who that lady is?” said Deeming. “Margherita Terrascalchi,” replied Vernon. “What—the famous authoress?” I said. “The writer of ‘Pietà’?” “Yes.” Deeming stared hard at the little lady, who was beginning to eat with extraordinary, almost comical, gusto. “I have read that book,” he said. “In a translation.” “What do you think of it?” asked Vernon. “No doubt it is well done and calculated to move the ordinary reader.” “Only the ordinary reader?” said Vernon, with a slight upward movement of his eyebrows. “I think it wrongheaded and sentimental,” said Deeming, with more energy than he had yet shown. “She appears to wish to elevate the animals above humanity, to take them out of their proper place.” [Illustration: “SHE AND HER COMPANIONS WERE OBVIOUSLY ITALIANS.”] “What would you say is their proper place?” “They are in the world, in my opinion, to be the servants of humanity, to minister to our comfort, our pleasure, our necessities, to help to increase our knowledge and satisfy our appetites, to give us ease and to gain us money. Don’t you think so?” “No doubt many scientists, many sportsmen, and most, if not all, butchers do.” I laughed. “But you, Vernon,” I said, “are neither scientist, sportsman, nor butcher, and Deeming asks you what you think.” Vernon was looking less tranquil, less gentle than usual at this moment. His face was lit up by a fire I had never seen burning in his eyes before.