*Horace*
Supper is hellish.
Rapunzel and the Frenchman keep laughing at Layla’s gossip… which I think is rather coarse, though her stories never edge over into pure vulgarity.
“From what I heard,” Layla is telling them, “being married to Alpha Sidyham was like finding oneself a Christian in the Colosseum, whisker to whisker with a large tiger. I mean to say that he was absurdly primeval. Rabid. I was at a dinner party once when he accused his Luna, in front of all of us, of being infatuated with anyone wearing a clerical collar. She was merely enjoying a conversation with the Archbishop of Canterbury, and anyone who has met him knows that one would have to be truly devoted to the cloth to find him attractive.”
“His was a quite unkind attack,” Rapunzel says, adding, “though oddly specif
