speculate, but I think that would be correct.”
“I think it is.”
“I see.” She smiled to herself, making a pretense of hunting for some fact among her pages. “Then I suppose you would also know the details of a compound clavicle fracture resulting from
direct
force.”
“Miss Riley, please…”
“Come on, come on.”
“Fracture by compression. The line of the fracture would be transverse,” he recited in a bored tone, waving a hand impatiently. “And the soft parts overlying the fracture would be damaged according to the weight and shape of the impinging body.”
“Give me an example of how someone might indirectly suffer a compound fracture of the clavicle.”
“This isn’t Sunday school, Miss Riley. We’re not going to—”
“Come on, come on.”
“Falling on an outstretched hand could result in a…fracture of the clavicle in the middle third…possibly also or instead resulting in a fracture of the radius at its lower end. If you would please hand those notes over, I think it’s time we moved on.”
Finella acquiesced, falling silent as Henry looked over her most recent notes. “If you were permitted to return to school, would you?” she said.
“I have to confess, I much prefer learning this way.” Henry smiled at the pages as he flipped them. “I trust that’s not too forward.”
“No. No, I must say I find this form of study far more invigorating than simply rehearsing the day’s lesson in my room. But what if you could return? There would be no reason for us to stop studying as we do.”
Henry kept himself from shrugging. “Life’s too short for maybes, Miss Riley. I would rather live with what I have than play house with what I don’t. No sense weighing ourselves down with ghosts and could-have-beens.”
Finella laughed politely, like a cough. “Yes, of course.”
“You don’t agree.”
“I agree in principle. But I do believe that you should at least make some effort to be reinstated in the professor’s class. You have a natural way with the science of this, Henry. To waste that gift would be a sin.”
“I’m not wasting it.” He tapped the page. “This is as good as being there. Better, even.”
She sighed, unconvinced. “I’m no doctor. Not yet. You can’t ask me questions that the prof could answer. I’m just a student, like you. Go back, Henry. At worst the old fellow will just refuse you. But I don’t think he will.”
The evening concluded, a final toast made, and the group forwarded out of their little back room, talking among themselves. Dorian and Dysart had talked themselves out. A decision had been made as to the best way forward for the Voso ritual, and now all that remained was to prepare themselves over the coming weeks by way of abstinence and good works. Henry wasn’t exactly clear on how any of that was meant to work, but Dorian would explain it all the next time they met.
The main room of the Coat and Arms had emptied itself as men collected their hats and coats and made their way back out into the chill. Both Henry and Finella recognized one man in particular, and stopped in their tracks. The professor had seen their group, blanched at the sight of Finella in the company of four men, left his port where it was on the table, took his hat, and stood. Instinctively Henry threw himself into the breach.
“Professor! How do you do. Had I known you would be here I would have invited you to sit with us.”
The old man feigned surprise. “Oh, it’s Mr. Lockrose isn’t it? And Miss Riley.”
“Professor,” Finella demurred. “Were you passing the evening alone?”
“Yes, as it turns out. Forgive my rudeness, as I must be going. It’s late.”
Henry inclined his head. “Indeed. Good night, Professor.”
The old man doffed his hat and exited. The group watched him go.
“He was here on your account, Henry,” Dorian said. “I’d bet my life on it.”
“And yet he said nothing,” said Finella. “On
“I think it is.”
“I see.” She smiled to herself, making a pretense of hunting for some fact among her pages. “Then I suppose you would also know the details of a compound clavicle fracture resulting from
direct
force.”
“Miss Riley, please…”
“Come on, come on.”
“Fracture by compression. The line of the fracture would be transverse,” he recited in a bored tone, waving a hand impatiently. “And the soft parts overlying the fracture would be damaged according to the weight and shape of the impinging body.”
“Give me an example of how someone might indirectly suffer a compound fracture of the clavicle.”
“This isn’t Sunday school, Miss Riley. We’re not going to—”
“Come on, come on.”
“Falling on an outstretched hand could result in a…fracture of the clavicle in the middle third…possibly also or instead resulting in a fracture of the radius at its lower end. If you would please hand those notes over, I think it’s time we moved on.”
Finella acquiesced, falling silent as Henry looked over her most recent notes. “If you were permitted to return to school, would you?” she said.
“I have to confess, I much prefer learning this way.” Henry smiled at the pages as he flipped them. “I trust that’s not too forward.”
“No. No, I must say I find this form of study far more invigorating than simply rehearsing the day’s lesson in my room. But what if you could return? There would be no reason for us to stop studying as we do.”
Henry kept himself from shrugging. “Life’s too short for maybes, Miss Riley. I would rather live with what I have than play house with what I don’t. No sense weighing ourselves down with ghosts and could-have-beens.”
Finella laughed politely, like a cough. “Yes, of course.”
“You don’t agree.”
“I agree in principle. But I do believe that you should at least make some effort to be reinstated in the professor’s class. You have a natural way with the science of this, Henry. To waste that gift would be a sin.”
“I’m not wasting it.” He tapped the page. “This is as good as being there. Better, even.”
She sighed, unconvinced. “I’m no doctor. Not yet. You can’t ask me questions that the prof could answer. I’m just a student, like you. Go back, Henry. At worst the old fellow will just refuse you. But I don’t think he will.”
The evening concluded, a final toast made, and the group forwarded out of their little back room, talking among themselves. Dorian and Dysart had talked themselves out. A decision had been made as to the best way forward for the Voso ritual, and now all that remained was to prepare themselves over the coming weeks by way of abstinence and good works. Henry wasn’t exactly clear on how any of that was meant to work, but Dorian would explain it all the next time they met.
The main room of the Coat and Arms had emptied itself as men collected their hats and coats and made their way back out into the chill. Both Henry and Finella recognized one man in particular, and stopped in their tracks. The professor had seen their group, blanched at the sight of Finella in the company of four men, left his port where it was on the table, took his hat, and stood. Instinctively Henry threw himself into the breach.
“Professor! How do you do. Had I known you would be here I would have invited you to sit with us.”
The old man feigned surprise. “Oh, it’s Mr. Lockrose isn’t it? And Miss Riley.”
“Professor,” Finella demurred. “Were you passing the evening alone?”
“Yes, as it turns out. Forgive my rudeness, as I must be going. It’s late.”
Henry inclined his head. “Indeed. Good night, Professor.”
The old man doffed his hat and exited. The group watched him go.
“He was here on your account, Henry,” Dorian said. “I’d bet my life on it.”
“And yet he said nothing,” said Finella. “On
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