Thursday, 3 November 2011

Doffing his tile

The Yankee secret service evidently left nothing to chance. “Good luck, Comber . . . and,” he added quietly, “if need be, good hunting.” Cool as a trout, rot him, doffing his tile and knuckling his lip-whisker as we drove away.

Flashman and the Angel of the Lord, p.196, Harper Collins, 1995.

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