"So much so that 'Scholar' is an earned title among them," Abigail tells him, accepting her cup and saucer back. She leans an elbow on the table and her chin on her palm and gazes at him with clear, bright-eyed interest.

"With the way you dress, I'd have thought you were of the Eighth... and they do love their rules and formalities on the Eighth. They'd have been better off with someone like you rather than that ninny Silas Octakiseron, though."