"We didn't, either," Edith says, shaking her head. "Not back in Buffalo, and certainly not once I'd moved to England." She'd been virtually in the middle of nowhere there, and while she knows that was more of a lucky convenience for the Sharpes rather than something deliberate, it had only made being there all the more unsettling. There was nowhere to go, no exit she could take. "Do you think the food is any good? It's hard to imagine buying a meal in a furniture store." It does seem rather convenient, at least, in the way that so many things about this time do, all designed to minimize the time spent on them. Its quality, though, may be a different matter entirely.