"Mmmh." He doesn't really want to sit here in his wet shirt; it would be all right in the noon sun but it's chilly and clinging now. But he doesn't want to go back to his room... His mind shies away from the thought of going with Hotspur into the warm dimness of the stable building, in search of something else to wear, and he lets it for now.

But after he takes the piece of cheese, Feuilly snickers suddenly. "--If you propose throwing a horse-blanket over me, I'll--"