You see soldiering is my life, the Cavalry, the flash of the blade, the thrill of the charge, thundering forth with the flailing hooves and straining sinews of the horse, snorting and bellowing as he charges the line, sabre against musket ball, sinew against flesh, grape shot against muscle, charging on as ones fellows lie writhing in death, that’s what I gave up for Marchington Hall and the family name. Sex vedio “It’s cook’s fault,” the old witch lied. “Good man,” I said, an turning I added, “Belcher don’t stand there open mouthed, you’ll catch a moth, be gone man.”
“You need a better suit if you’re to be under butler Binks,” I informed the younger man, “And you must use more soap and less scent, I told the chamber maids, who smiled awkwardly. “Just two lashes then, gentle ones,” I offered, “This time.”
“On my hand sir?” she asked. Luncheon was tolerable, if greatly more palatable than field rations it hardly equalled the standard of the officers mess at Catesby, and then after luncheon I ordered the house hold to the courtyard. “But sir, she is our Mistress!” said one. “I shall return to soldiering,” I declared.
