“I am absolutely starving,” she said as they drove off.  “I have been in since eleven this morning; and of course they only called the band for half-past.  They are such damned fools:  they drive me mad.”

“Why dont you walk out of the theatre, and make them arrange it properly for next day?”

“Oh yes!  And throw the whole day after the half, and lose my rehearsal.  It is bad enough to lose my temper.  I swore, I can tell you.”

“I have no doubt you did.”

“This horse thinks he’s at a funeral.  What o’clock is it?”

“It’s only eight minutes past four.  There is plenty of time.”

When they alighted, Lalage hurried into the restaurant; scrutinized the tables; and selected the best lighted one.  The waiter, a decorous elderly man, approached with some severity of manner, and handed a bill of fare to Marmaduke.  She snatched it from him, and addressed the waiter sharply.

“Bring me some thin soup; and get me a steak to follow.  Let it be a thick juicy one.  If its purple and raw I wont have it; and if its done to a cinder, I wont have it:  it must be red.  And get me some spring cabbage and potatoes, and a pint of dry champagne—­the decentest you have.  And be quick.”

“And what for you, sir?” said the waiter, turning to Marmaduke.

“Never mind him,” interrupted Susanna.  “Go and attend to me.”

The waiter bowed and retired.

“Old stick-in-the-mud!” muttered Miss Lalage.  “Is it half-past four yet?”

“No.  It’s only quarter past.  There’s lots of time.”

Mademoiselle Lalage ate until the soup, a good deal of bread, the steak, the vegetables, and the pint of champagne—­less a glassful taken by her companion—­had disappeared.  Marmaduke watched her meanwhile, and consumed two ices.

“Have an ice to finish up with?” he said.

“No.  I cant work on sweets,” she replied.  “But I am beginning to feel alive again and comfortable.  Whats the time?”

“Confound the time!” said Marmaduke.  “It’s twenty minutes to five.”

“Well, I’ll drive back to the theatre.  I neednt start for quarter of an hour yet.”

“Thank heaven!” said Marmaduke.  “I was afraid I should not be able to get a word with you.”

“That reminds me of a crow I have to pluck with you, Mr. Marmaduke Lind.  What did you mean by telling me your name was Sharp?”

“It’s the name of a cousin of mine,” said Marmaduke, attempting to dismiss the subject with a laugh.

“It may be your cousin’s name; but it’s not yours.  By the bye, is that the cousin youre engaged to?”

“What cousin?  I’m not engaged to anybody.”

“That’s a lie, like your denial of your name.  Come, come, Master Marmaduke:  you cant humbug me.  Youre too young.  Hallo!  What do you want?”

It was the waiter, removing some plates, and placing a bill on the table.  Marmaduke put his hand into his pocket.