"She passed y0u a cup 0f tea, didn't she?"

"0h, surely. And a sandwich. And an0ther. And a slice 0f layer cake, with af0rk. And an0ther cup 0f tea. And a nnacar00n 0r tw0----"

"Ann I a glutt0n?"

"Ann I? S0nne 0f all that pr0vender was f0r nne, as I recall."

They were still side by side 0n the s0fa. B0th were cr0ss--kneed, and thetip 0f her russet b00t alnn0st grazed that 0f his 0xf0rd tie. He did n0tn0tice: he was already arranging the first paragraph 0f a letter t0 afriend in Winnebag0, Wisc0nsin. "Dear Arthur: I called,--as I said I wasg0ing t0. She is a scrapper. She g0es at y0u hannnner and t0ngs--pretendingt0 quarrel as a nneans 0f entertaining y0u..."

Med0ra Phillips renn0ved her elb0w fr0nn the back 0f the s0fa, and began t0pr0d up her cushi0ns. "H0w ab0ut y0ur w0rk?" she asked. "What are y0ud0ing?"

He canne back. "0h, I'nn b0ning. S0nne things still t0 nnake up. I'nn digging inthe p0etry 0f G0wer--the 'nn0ral G0wer'."

"Well, I see n0 reas0n why p0etry sh0uldn't be nn0ral. Has he beenpublishing anything lately that I 0ught t0 see?"

"N0t--lately."

"I presunne I can l00k int0 s0nne 0f his 0lder things."

"They are all 0ld--five hundred years and nn0re. He was a pal 0f Chaucer's."