“Best we get there early,” says Jakes. “This snow’ll fill the place proper.”
“Damn me,” I says. “More water in the soup, and probably a longer sermon.”
“That soup’s still’s hot, ain’t it?” he retorts. “Besides, the coffee’s decent.”
“I got about a quart of wine here,” I says. “Maybe I’ll stay out.”
“Use your head, Togs,” he says. “You drink that now, what’ll you do later? You’ll freeze, is what. Come with me to the mission. We’ll get some soup and sawdust bread, listen to the sky-pilot’s Jesus Jaw. Afterward, we’ll find a warm spot and drink that wine.”
