A suitably sombre snippet for today, from Home Fires Burning.
“Good God, no. If it wasn’t for this,” Paul tapped his gammy leg, “I’d have to find some other way to avoid it. I’d drive ambulances, or crack codes, run messages night and day if I had to. I couldn’t go and fight.” The sea-green eyes looked straight into Nicholas’s deep grey ones, hiding nothing, baring Paul’s very soul.
“Why?” Relieved that their friendship hadn’t fallen at the first hurdle of his clumsy questioning, shocked at his friend’s uncharacteristic candour, Nicholas rushed in again.
“I couldn’t shoot another man, or bayonet him.” Paul’s face, normally ruddy from fresh air and exercise, had turned as pale as the hawthorn blossom they’d collected as boys. He ran his fingers through his fine, dark hair.
Nicholas tried to keep his eyes from admiring those long slender hands. Hands he’d seen wring the…
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