Hotspur matches the smile. "I have some need of one, I think. Thou knowest-- the things I know are worth fair little here, but thou canst-- thou, thou--"

His embarrassment at his stuttering incoherence shades over at once into an expression of irritation. He tightens his hand on Feuilly's arm a moment, then lets go.

"--Thy shirt is damp yet."