Perhaps it was the sort of joke you had to be local to understand, Roland thought. Her tone was cold, but her eyes were hot with suspicion. It was water—a billion gallons a minute, for all Jake knew—pouring over the lip of the chasm and falling perhaps two thousand feet into the deep stone basin at the base of the falls. There was no time to open it again, either.
“What—” Eddie began. “Cort,” Roland agreed, smiling. Oy looked nervous at this—as if he perhaps expected to be swung briskly into the air and given the old heave-ho—but he didn’t struggle. ”“Handsome is as handsome does, Blaine.
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