“What an impatient ‘Well, well.’ I shall make you quite an enthusiastic Benetite before dinner is over.”
Priscilla blushed.
“I am sorry I spoke too eagerly,” she said.
“Oh, no, not a bit too eagerly.”
“But please tell me where I ought to have seated myself.”
“There is a table near that lower entrance, Miss—”
“Peel,” interposed Priscilla. “My name is Priscilla Peel.”
“How quaint and great-grandmotherly. Quite delicious! Well, Miss Peel, by that entrance door is a table, a table rather in a draught, and consecrated to the Freshers—there the Freshers humbly partake of nourishment.”
“I see. Then I am as far from the right place as I can be.”
“About as far as you can be.”