Various Flavors of Coffee by Anthony Capella Page A

asset?”
    For ten minutes she cross-questioned me about the new science rooms, the women’s colleges, the Examination Halls and so on. I was a disappointment to her. I could describe walking across the college deer park at dawn, arm in arm with a couple of drunken fellows, or punting to Wytham for a lunch of grilled trout, but of the lecture halls and academics she named I knew al-most nothing.
    However, it was useful to have a third person in the room.The object of our glossary was, after all, to communicate, and we were able to test our progress on Ada. She proved useful in a more practical way, too, when it came to the creation of the sample case— but I am getting ahead of myself.

    At around twelve o’clock, Emily stretched. “Perhaps it is a consequence of this unaccustomed scrutiny I am giving to my own perceptions,” she said,“but I find I am actually quite ravenous.”
    “That is to be expected,” I said. “Just as music must be studied and practiced before one can sit down and sight-read, so one must diligently practice all the scales and arpeggios of pleasure before we may claim to be proficient.”
    She rolled her eyes.“Is that a rather long-winded way of saying you too are hungry?”
    “Exactly.Where is good round here?”
    “There’s a place in Narrow Street that does excellent eel pies. In fact, I have been thinking of little else these last twenty minutes. They serve them with mashed potatoes, and a little of the eel liquor as a sauce—”
    “I have to go to Hoxton, to buy some chemicals,” Ada interjected.
    “Then it looks as if it will just be you and I,” I said to Emily. “Emily, may I have a word?” Ada said quickly.
    The two sisters conferred on the landing in low voices. Of course, I went to the door to listen.
    “—promised Father nothing objectionable would take place.” “Don’t be such a nincompoop, Ada. There is about as much
    chance of me succumbing to Mr.Wallis’s purple compliments over a harmless lunch as there is of that river freezing over. But if you’re really so concerned, come with us.”
    “You know I can’t.You’ll have to take the Frog.” I heard Emily sigh.“I’d rather not.”
    “Why not?”
    “We can’t possibly talk with the Frog there.”
    “Wallis does nothing but talk, as far as I can see. But very well— if you can really bear to go with him, then go.”

    As we walked along Narrow Street a silence fell upon us.To tell the truth, I was still smarting from Ada’s remark that I did nothing but talk.
    “How long have you been working for your father?” I said at last.
    “Almost three years now.”
    “Three years!” I shook my head. “It is a longer sentence than poor Oscar got at his trial!”
    “You don’t understand. For me to be able to work is a luxury.” She gave me a sideways look. “Whereas for you, I suppose, it is a novelty.”
    “Certainly. To paraphrase that great writer, the only work worth pursuing is a work of art.”
    “Hmm.You have clearly lit your torch at that man’s flame, like so many of our artists at present.”
    “Oscar Wilde is a genius—the greatest man of the age, whatever anyone says.”
    “Well, I hope you have not been too much influenced by him.” “Whatever do you mean?”
    “Only that it would be a shame if you were to copy him in . . . certain respects.”
    I stopped.“Are you flirting with me, Miss Pinker?” “Certainly not,” she said, blushing.
    “Because if you are, I shall have to complain to your father. Or possibly to Ada, who is even more terrifying.”

    I would never have believed such a delicate creature could put away so much food. I watched open-mouthed as she finished off an eel pie with liquor and mash, a dozen oysters, a slice of trout pie, and a plate of whelks with parsley butter, all washed down with half a pint of hock-and-seltzer.
    “I told you I had an appetite,” she said, wiping parsley butter off her lips with a napkin.
    “I am most impressed.”
    “Are