So I called to the man of the house to bring us food quickly, and, while it was coming, set myself to know more of my new comrade.
Yet when I came to question him I felt abashed. For he looked so grave and noble that, despite his ragged clothes, it seemed presumptuous to ask him who he was. While I doubted how to begin, he spared me the trouble.
“Are you going to Oxford?” said he.
“I am,” said I. “I was to reach there this night, but lost my way; and even yet do not know how near I am.”
“Not an hour from the cursed place,” said he, giving his student’s cap, which lay on the floor at his feet, a little kick.
“Then it agrees not with you?” said I.
“Agrees!” said he, and then dropped silent, far more eloquently than if he had spoken a volume.
“Pray, sir,” said I, after an awkward pause, “do you know one Master Penry of Saint Alban Hall?”
He laughed at that.
“The Welshman? Verily, I know him. What do you want with him?”