He wasn’t a big chap, in height, but he was built like a bull across the shoulders, with a huge, shaggy head and a beard like a sweep’s broom. Even at that distance I could see the flashing eyes as he thundered out his message, thumping the air with his fist and laying it off like a Mississippi camp-meeting preacher full of virtue and 40-rod whisky.
Royal Flash, pp.163-4, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.
Tags:
Flashman, 
Flashman quotes,
Karl Marx.
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