This time it was a brown wooden box, half again the dimensions of an ordinary shoebox. Marigold, still stooping, reached out to retrieve the container... opening it near the unravelled scroll. Inside was what appeared to be a burnt steak."So what's this?" It's Nat King Cole's right lung," answered the kennel, a smug arrogance now creeping into its intonation."Yee--urgh! What are you trying to do? Gross me out?" Well, if you're going to be so childish about it, I'll get you something else. This is. I did understand that my parents were hoping to set him up with Agnes. It surprised me that Agnes was seeming to go along with this so happily. Tibor certainly looked happy about this turn of events too. When he spoke in Hungarian, I guess he was funny, witty and charming, judging by the response he was evoking from the three females present. I had to admit, he was a lot better looking without that ridiculous haircut. Once, when they were all laughing about a story that Tibor had told, Agnes. More

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