It bought me three more minutes. And then, “You’ve curdled my entire meal.” “What is there to curdle, Cousin?” “My peas.” “Can one curdle peas? If there was a cream sauce, certainly, but as they are simply paired with unoffending carrots?” “To be curdled is a state of the soul,” answered he. “Do you refer to the permanent state of yours?” quipped I. He threw his spoon at me. I ducked below the table.
