It is plain, very plain, but good." He smacked his lips sincerely and fingered another scone.

"Take some, take some." Farnsworth was not tempted.

The acid bouquet of the wine filled the room with a smack of vinegar, and the smoke from rank scorching fat and wheat meal did not suggest an agreeable feast.
"Well, well, if you are not hungry, my son, sit down on the stool there and tell me the news." Farnsworth took the low seat without a word, letting his eyes wander over the walls.

Alice's rapier, the mate to that now worn by Hamilton, hung in its curiously engraved scabbard near one corner.

The sight of it inflamed Farnsworth.
"It's an outrage," he broke forth.