Oxy, standing at the door with his injured forepaw lifted, gave another low whine. a#39; All right, old chap, a#39; said Joyce softly. a#39; Let a#39;s go.a#39; aquot;aquot;THE rain had abated a little as Joyce and Oxy reached the slippery path at the foot of the moor, but the mist hung thick and chill. Together they plodded on, Joyce stumbling a score of times and the dog pausing only to make sure she was following. ... How do you feel ?