In the next room, they sat around the oak table. Like the kitchen, Sophie felt herself transported to a century ago. Inhaling mixed beer flavors, aged wine, baking and acrid smell of smoke permeating from the cheerfully burning hearth, she experienced a sudden satisfaction, the first time in all the time she was in Penhollou. And the first thing that is not associated with Chad. No matter what the tavern lacked refinement and sophistication, it made up for their cozy warmth and robust security, especially now, when the windows was pouring rain.