"Is it not, though?" Tancredi turned to grin at him, then trod frantically on the brake. The Italian leaned out and showered a pedestrian with curses.
He turned back to Padway. "Are you coming to my house for dinner tomorrow?"
"Wh-what? Why yes, I'll be glad to. I'm sailing next—"
"Si, si. I will show you the equations I have worked out. Energy must be conserved, even in changing one's time. But nothing of this to my colleagues, please. You understand." The sallow little man took his hands off the wheel to wag both forefingers at Padway. "It is a harmless eccentricity. But one's professional reputation must not suffer."
"Eek!" said Padway.
Tancredi jammed on the brake and skidded to a stop behind a truck halted at the intersection of the Via del Mare and the Piazza Aracoeli. "What was I talking about?" he asked.
"Harmless eccentricities," said Padway. He felt like adding that Professor Tancredi's driving ranked among his less harmless ones. But the man had been very kind to him.
"Ah, yes. Things get out, and people talk. Archaeologists talk even worse than most people. Are you married?"
"What?" Padway felt he should have gotten used to this sort of thing by now. He hadn't. "Why—yes."
"Good. Bring your wife along." It was a surprising invitation for an Italian to issue.