[ Dick takes it with another flinch, less pronounced than the first. The hood of his brow is faintly miserable, in the rise before the next crest. There isn’t a thread left of him to keep dry.
Whose idea was it for him to go out in this weather, anyway? ]
no subject
Whose idea was it for him to go out in this weather, anyway? ]
I can.
[ Not the same as ‘I do.’ ]
I haven’t had cause to study the local tradition.