She did him proud, too, with a strapping blonde wench – satin boots and all – and at the sight of her Willy moaned feverishly and pointed, quivering, like a setter. He was trying to clamber all over her almost before the door was closed, and of course he made a fearful mess of it, thrashing away like a stoat in a sack, and getting nowhere.
Flashman at the Charge, p.40, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.
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