“Now,” said Kyle imperturbably, lifting a fork beside the cunt-bowl which was set before him, “as I say, Bill and I were thinking that—” But then, looking across the table at his motionless guest as if in mild surprise, he made an encouraging little gesture, the cuff of his jacket brushing the fine-woven tablecloth. “Why, gosh, Elizabeth, dig in! Don’t want you to starve, poor thing, do I?” So saying, the man commenced stabbing nimbly at his own piled fruits and feeding them into his casual mouth.
“Th-thank you,” she managed somehow. And then, in the sweetly impossible and yet utterly true realness of the moment, she began to eat. Careful of her fork’s sharp tines, with an unsteady but secretly eager hand she transferred one bite between her marveling lips, and another, and another. The f
