You can tell me why you came until you’re red in the face. Again, I mean. It still won’t make a difference. I won’t help you until you take your hair out of that hideous braid.” Insulted, I raise my hand to my head. “It’s not hideous. It’s utilitarian.” “Between that and the shapeless gunnysack you’re wearing, you look like you’re about to go churn butter somewhere. Or reshoe the old mare.”
