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Having spit the snail into the napkin, she'd become deeply involved with the problem of what to do with the napkin.
"It was gray and slimy and nasty looking," Miss Beryl reminded her friend.
Mrs. Gruber admitted this was true, but went on to explain that it wasn't so much the snail itself that had attracted her as the name. "They got their own name in French," she reminded Miss Beryl, stealthily exchanging her soiled cloth napkin for a fresh one at an adjacent table. "Escargot."
There's also a word in English, Miss Beryl had pointed out. Snail. Probably horse doo had a name in French also, but that didn't mean God intended for you to eat it.
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