"He's never had good table manners, I'm afraid." She laughs, a somewhat nervous sound. "I'm really very sorry. I can--I don't know. Do something? I don't know what but something."

Bartholomew doesn't even ave the good graces to look sheepish. He just watches the soldier with unblinking eyes, occasionally batting a paw in his general direction.

Annabel stands there, trying very hard not to look mortified at her cant's behavior.