At the dining table, with the main meal of stew, dumplings and sweet potatoes coming to an end, Winterton sat back in his chair, beaming, and patted his stomach with both hands. “I have to say, that is the finest meal I"ve had since my dear mama still lived!”
They all smiled, some laughed. Across the table, Simms carefully put down his knife and fork over his empty plate and dabbed at his mouth with a serviette. “I concur, Miss Randall. That really was quite delicious.”
At the end of the table, beside the young man who stood in the doorway with a shotgun, Elisabeth blushed a little, her head down. “Well, thank you, but really, it was nothing special. Just a pot of rib steak and beans.”
“A feast,” piped up another, older man who sat at the far end. “As always.”
Lots of nodding and mutte
