She eyed Belloc askance. "What is . . . ill-mannered?"
"A lot of parochial nonsense," replied the wizard with a straight face, "but if we don't behave in what many call an acceptable manner, they will think us to be rustic folk. If we behave as they do, they will think us refined."
"Why?"
"If I was to answer that question for you," replied Belloc, "it would not help you in the least. Consider it this way: if your knowledge of your young man here came solely from me, that knowledge would bear little resemblance to the Anest that you know. The truth of a thing is not part of that thing: the truth is in you."
She sighed, staring distantly at her bowl. Until Anest took her spoon, scooped up some food, and held it before her. She took the spoon from him, holding it like he'd shown her, and placed it in her mouth. It took her a moment to decide whether or not she liked porridge with dried blueberries, cranberries, apricots, grapes, apple and brown sugar and cream. But she did.
When they had finished and cleared the dishes, Anest said to Belloc, "Do you think that the others will be all right while we're gone? I hate to think of them here by themselves. Not," he added, "that they're helpless."