There was no warning, not even a knock. The door flew open, and he forgot his present aches and pains in anticipation of what lay in store. The figure that stood in the door was not that of an enemy. It was worse. It was his mother.
I don’t think she realized how much she cared for him, or he for her, until the end. Hasn’t someone said a woman may be known by the men who love her enough to die for her? (If they haven’t, I claim the credit myself.)
It’s not unsporting to thrash a cowardly cad,’ said Simmons. ‘Everyone knows you don’t fight like a gentleman.’ ‘That might be called an oxymoron,’ Ramses said. ‘Oh–sorry. Bad form to use long words. Look it up when you get home.’ The poor devil didn’t know how to fight, like a gentleman or otherwise.
