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The fragrant scent of supper drifted to the table where Posco and Lily sat, and both drew in the beautiful smell with peaceful smiles. Posco did not take his eyes off her, for he thought she was too sweet for words, and he wanted to remember any and every moment they spent together, in the case that he would see her again as Mrs. Tommy Banks. He studied her hair, her eyes, her cheeks, her little nose, her smiling lips, and he didn't realise that the supper was being served, until she asked him, with a laugh, if he were at all hungry, and if he would like something to eat. And then he sprang to his feet, bidding her stay where she was, and he was not gone long before two bowls of chicken stew were placed on their little table.
"Is it anything like your mother's food?" Lily asked.
"I have to say it isn't," said Posco, with a regretful smile. "It's very good, and I'm very hungry, but my mother is, after all, my mother, and I can't say that anyone cooks better than she does." He paused in his eating, and watched Lily daintily sip at her stew, and he wondered if someday he would sit across from her every day, or if Tommy Banks would be the happy hobbit who enjoyed such.
"Yes," said Posco, hurrying on, for he did not want to dwell in despondent thoughts about Tommy Banks, and he recalled to himself that he was the one who had asked Lily to give that lad a chance, for it was the best thing to do. "My mother is a splendid cook, like most hobbit mothers are. Perhaps you'd like to stay for a day or two at my family's home? It might be a wise thing to have them meet you."
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