Excerpt from Crispin Ken, Vol. 1
Crispin Ken drew near his father, and seized the thin damp hand that was stretched out to him. He, too, for days and for weeks had had something to say, but when he felt that hand, that hand so heavy yet so thin, it was not in him just then to begin at all, whatever he might have to tell.
Crispin, what ails you, boy, that your hand is never still? I say it's never still likely enough though it's' the cold; a bit of fire will stay that chill; there's stick and coal about.
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