The tavern keeper looked at the girl who was re-lacing her bodice. He shrugged sympathetically. "The English, yes? Mad. All mad. Heretics. Mad." He made the sign of the cross to defend himself from the heathen evil. "Like all soliders," the tavern keeper said. "Just mad."
(Bernard Cornwall, Sharpe's Rifles)
1 comment:
And mad dogs and Englishmen, go out in the midday sun...
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