Wednesday, 14 November 2012

A bullet did that

      “Are you sick, farangi? Why do you look away? Does the sight of blood distress you?” I looked up to find the bodyguard leaning on his spear; Portly was off on a frolic of his own, seemingly. “Nay, surely not; you have seen your own blood run from a wound.” He pointed to the star-shaped scar on my hand. “A bullet did that.”
      “A clean wound is one thing soldier,” says I, and nodded towards the Ladies’ De-ballocking Circle. “That is another.”

Flashman on the March, pp.186-7, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.

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