Not found everywhere, sir. The ladies usually like it. Or …"
"All right, serve that," said Neale, adding to himself unreasonably, "If you knew so well, why bother me about it?"
The real waiter in charge of his table now arrived in all his majesty, the first one having been but an aide. Neale saw by the earnest expression in his eyes that he intended to make their conference a serious one, and cut him short as he began to call over the possibilities of the menu by a repeated, "All right, that'll do," before he had had time to do more than mention one sort of fish or one entree, or one variety of fowl.
"There, that's over!" he said to himself with a long breath of relief as the pained waiter turned away to carry into execution that brutally impromptu order.
Eugenia arrived now, followed by a little stir all over the restaurant, as people turned to pay tribute to her beauty and her toilette. "He can't help noticing that!" she thought happily, her pride and satisfaction showing itself only in an increase of the perfectly unconscious naturalness with which she took her seat.
"Oh, what a beautiful view!" she said in a low tone to Neale, looking down over the cypresses of the Palatine to the city, like a heap of uncut jewels, dully, deeply colored, under the light of the setting sun. "You know how to choose a table, I see!" she added admiringly, in an intimate tone. She wondered if perhaps he had come out in the afternoon to reserve it. She noticed the screen now, and looked at him gratefully, really touched.
The waiter arrived with the soup.
"Yes, it is a fine view," said Neale, rousing himself. "A very fine view indeed. That's the Colosseum over there, isn't it?"
"Yes," said Eugenia, "and that's the Arch of Titus."
"That's the one with the awfully bad bas-reliefs, isn't it?" said Neale.
"Oh, no," corrected Eugenia, "the one with the poor sculptures is the arch of Septimius Severus. The arch of Titus
