He looked his age. Perhaps a little younger. He had learned that the boys of no future tended to marry fairly young.

Simon had not, but then Simon had not done many things an intelligent man would.

Zechariah brandished the book up like one might a sword after the log settled, clearing his throat.

“As Adam early in the morning
Walking forth from the bower, refreshed with sleep...”

Once upon a time, he might have offered to help.