“Sharpe—what’s he got to do with it? Come on, look alive, or I shall be late for tea.”
I could barely be angry with him. He didn’t seem to be able to see the matter from my point of view at all, and was so genuinely friendly with it all.
“The third will be a hot one,” said he, as I held out my hand; “but I don’t want to break the cane—it’s a good one.”
The third was a hot one.
“Hurt you much?” said Tempest, carefully examining his weapon.
“Middling,” said I.
“Now the other hand. I suppose you’ve not got to know many chaps yet? Did you get any cricket in the vac.?”
“No,” said I, extending my left in a deprecating way.
“We did,” said he. “We were jolly near licking—”
“Ow!”