Clause 4.1.9

"Excuse me," Nora choked out, grabbing her heavy cloth napkin. She leaned across the table, frantically dabbing at the thick broth and grease dripping down the horrified guest’s nose.

"That is alright," the man muttered, batting her hand away. He swiped at his cheek with his own linen square, chunks of old lamb tumbling onto his lap.

"Bring a napkin for this ragazza," Rosalba ordered a hovering