Just at this moment a bell was rung in the hall.
"We must go to luncheon, children," said the marchioness, rising, "Jean will finish his little definition for us at table."
"Oh, I am not particularly keen about it, aunt," said Jean, laughing.
"I am, though; I am no longer 'in the know' of things, as you say, and I don't object to be instructed about certain matters on which I am absolutely ignorant."
On taking her seat at table, the marchioness, addressing Jean, continued:
"You were saying that the young men who were not precisely the intellectual ones were—"
"Oh, I am not good at explanations," he replied.
"That does not matter; go on, anyhow."
"Well, those who are not really intellectual are of the sickly kind; they act that sort of thing to begin with, and then they end by getting like it in reality; they are intolerably affected, effeminate, crazy, and everything else beside. They set up for being original, and not like anyone else."
"Well, and what do you call them?"